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LAYS 

OP 

THE SCOTTISH CAYALIERS 

AID OTHER POEMS. 



BY 

WILLIAM EDMONDSTOU.^E AYTOUN, 

aOITOR OF BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE, AXD PEOFESSOE OF EHETOSBO 

AND BBLUES LETTRKS IN THE TTNIVEBSITY 

OF EDINBURGH. 




NEW YORK: 
W. J. WIDDLETOK PUBLISHER. 






«T0 



By Transfei 



THE RIGHT HONORABLE 

ARCHIBALD WILLIAM liAMILTON-MONTGOMERlE, 
iEarl of IBfllfntoti antJ Sl^fnton, 

THE PATRIOTIC AN'D NOBLE REPRESEXTATIVE 

OF AN ANCIENT SCOTTISH RACE, 

THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED 

BY THE AUTHOR. 



C N T E ?( T S 



LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS 

PaGK, 

EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN 3 

THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE 35 

THE HEART OE THE BRUCE 61 

THE BURIAL-MARCH OF DVNDKK 83 

THE WIDOW OF GLENCOE 117 

THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS 141 

CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES 169 

THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER ,... 231 

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

BLIND OLD MILTON 255 

HERMOTIMUS 265 

(ENONE 282 

THE BURIED FLOWER 287 

THE OLD CAMP 301 

DANUBE AND THE EUXINE 306 

1 , 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

MISCELLANEOUS FOEMS— {Continued.) 

PAGE 

THE SCHEIK OF SINAI 310 

EPITAPH OF CONSTAXTUfE KANAEIS 317 

THE REFUSAL OF CHARON. 319 

APPENDIX. 

EXAMINATION" OF THE STATEilENTS IN ME. MACAU- 
LAY'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND, REGARDING JOHN 
GRAHAME OF CLAVERHOUSE, VISCOUNT OF 
DUNDEE 325 




yLiSRARYiS) 



EDINBURGH 



F L O D D E N 



The great battle of Flodden was fought upon tne 
9th of September, 1513. The defeat of the Scottish 
army, resulting mainly from the fantastic ideas of 
chivalry entertained by James IV., and his refusal 
to avail himself of the natural advantages of his 
position, was by far the most disastrous of any 
recounted in the history of the northern wars. 
The whole strength of the kingdom, both Lowland 
and Highland, was assembled, and the contest 



4 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

was one of the sternest and most desperate ujjon 
record. 

For several hours the issue seemed doubtful. 
On the left the Scots obtahied a decided advantage; 
on the right wing they were broken and over- 
thrown ; and at last the whole weight of the battle 
was brought into the centre, where King James and 
the Earl of Surrey commanded in person. The 
determined valor of James, imprudent as it was, 
had the effect of rousing to a pitch of desperation' 
the courage of the meanest soldiers; and the 
ground becoming soft and slippery from blood, 
they pulled off their boots and shoes, and secured 
a firmer footing by fighting in their hose. 

"It is owned," says Abercromby, "that both 
parties did wonders, but none on either side per- 
formed more than the King himself He was 
again told that, by coming to handy blows, he 
could do no more than another man, whereas, by 
keeping the post due to his station, he might be 
worth many thousands. Yet he would not only 
fiirht in person, but also on foot; for he no sooner 



EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN. 

saw that body of the English give way which wa^s 
defeated by the Earl of Huntley, but he alighted 
from his horse, and commanded his guard of noble- 
men and gentlemen to do the like and follow him. 
He had at first abundance of success ; but at length 
the Lord Thomas Howard and Sir Edward Stanley, 
who had defeated their opposites, coming in with 
the Lord Dacre's horse, and surrounding the King's 
battalion on all sides, the Scots were so distressed 
that, for their last defence, they cast themselves 
into a ring ; and, being resolved to die nobly with 
their sovereign, who scorned to ask quarter, were 
altogether cut off. So say the English writers, and 
I am apt to believe that they are in the right." 

The combat was maintained with desperate fury 
until nightfall. At the close, according to Mr. Tyt- 
ler, " Surrey was uncertain of the result of the bat- 
tie : the remains of the enemy's centre still held the 
field ; Home, with his Borderers, still hovered on 
the left ; and the commander wisely allowed neither 
pursuit nor plunder, but drew off his men, and kept 
a strict watch duiing the night When the morning 



b LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALTERS. 

broke, the Scottish artillery were seen standing 
deserted on the side of the hill : their defenders had 
disappeared; and the Earl ordered thanks to be 
given for a victory which was no longer doubtful. 
Yet, even after all this, a body of the Scots appeared 
unbroken upon a hill, and were about to charge the 
Lord Admiral, when they were compelled to leave 
their position by a discharge of the English ordi- 
nance. 

" The loss of the Scots in this fatal battle amount- 
ed to about ten thousand men. Of these, a great 
proportion were of high rank ; the remainder being 
composed of the gentry, the farmers, and landed 
yeomanry, who disdained to fly when their sovereign 
and his nobles lay stretched in heaps around them." 
Besides King James, there fell at Flodden the Arch- 
bishop of St. Andrews, thirteen earls, two bishops, 
two abbots, fifteen lords and chiefs of clans, and 
five peers' eldest sons, besides La Motte the French 
ambassador, and the secretary of the King. The 
same historian adds — "The names of the gentry 
who fell are too jiuinerous for recapitulation, since 



EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN. 7 

there were few families of note in Scotland which 
did not lose one relative or another, whilst some 
houses had to weep the death of all. It is fi-om this 
cause that the sensations of sorrow and national 
lamentation occasioned by the defeat were pecu- 
liarly poignant and lasting — so that to this day few 
Scotsmen can hear the name of Flodden without a 
shudder of gloomy regret." 

The loss to Edinburgh on this occasion was pecu- 
liarly great. All the magistrates and able-bodied 
citizens had follow^ed their King to Flodden, whence 
very few of them returned. The office of Provost 
or chief magistrate of the capital was at that time 
an object of ambition, and was conferred only upon 
persons of high rank and station. There seems to 
be some uncertainty whether the holder of this dig- 
nity at the time of the battle of Flodden was Sir 
Alexander Lauder, ancestor of the Fountainhall 
family, who was elected in 1511, or that great his- 
torical personage, Archibald Earl of Angus, better 
known as Archibald Bell-the-Cat, who was chosen 
in 1513 the year of the battle. Both of thf^m were 



& LAV'S OF THE SrOTTI>;ri CAVALIERS. 

at FJodden. The name of Sir Alexander Lauder 
appears upon the list of the slain ; Angus was one 
of the surviv)rs, but his son, George, Master of 
Angus, fell fighting gallantly l)y the side of King 
James. The city records of Edinburgh, which com- 
mence a1)0ut this period, are not clear upon the 
point, and I am rather inclined to think that the 
Earl of Angus was elected to supply the place of 
Lauder. But although the actual magistrates were 
absent, they had formally nominated deputies in 
their stead. I find, on referring to the city records, 
that " George of Tours " had been appointed to 
rjfliciate in the -absence of the Provost, and that 
four other persons wei-e selected to discharge the 
oflice of bailies until the magistrates should retui-n. 

Tt is impossible to desci-ibe the consternation 
which pervaded the whole of Scotland when the 
intelligence of the defeat became known. In Edin 
I>urgh it was excessive. Mr. Arnot, in the history 
of that city, -says, — 

"The news of their overthrow in the field of 
Floddeu 1 cached Edinburgh on the dav after the 



EDINBOKGII AT'TER FLODDEA. \f 

battle, and ovei whelmed the inhabitants with grief 
and confusion. The streets were crowded with 
women seeking intelligence about their friends, 
clamoring and weeping. Those who officiated in 
absence of the magistrates proved themselves wor- 
thy of the trust. They issued a proclamation, or- 
dering all the inhabitants to assemble in military 
array for defence of the city, on the tolling of the 
bell ; and commanding, ' that all women, and espe- 
cially strangers, do repair to their woj-k, and not be 
seen upon the street clamorand and cryand ; and 
that women of the better sort do repair to the 
church and offer up prayers, at the stated hours, for 
our Sovereign Lord and his army, and the towns- 
men who are with the array." 

Indeed, the council records bear ample evidence 
of the emergency of that occasion. Throughout 
the earlier pages, the word " Flowdoun " frequently 
occurs on the margin, in reference to various 
hurried orders for arming and defence ; and there 
can be no doubt that, had the English forces 

attempted to follow up their victory, and attack the 
1 



w 



lAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVAMEItS. 



Scottish capital, the citizens would have resisted to 
the last. But it soOn became apparent that the 
loss sustained by the English was so severe, that 
Surrey was in no condition to avail himself of the 
opportunity; and in fact, shortly aftei-wards, he 
was compelled to disband his army. 

The references to the city banner, contained in the 
following poem, may require a word of explana- 
tion. It is a standard still held in great honor and 
reverence by the burghers of Edinburgh, having 
been presented to them by James the Third, in 
return for their loyal service in 1482. This banner, 
along with that of the Earl Marischal, still eonspj. 
euGus In the Library of the Faculty of Advocates, 
was honoi-ably brought back from Flodden, and 
certainly never could have been displayed in a more 
memorable field. Maitland says, with reference to 
this very interesting relic of antiquity,— 

"-As a perpetual remembrance of the loyalty and 
bravery of the Edinburghers on the aforesaid occu 
sion, the King granted them a banner or standard, 
\vith a power to display the same in defence of their 



EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN. 1 1 

king, country, and their own rights. This flag is 
kept by the Convener of the Trades; at whose 
appearance therewith, it is said that not only the 
artificers of Edinburgh are obliged to repair to it, 
but all the artizans or craftsmen within Scotland 
are bound to follow it, and fight under the Crm- 
vener of Edinburgh as aforesaid " 

No event in Scottish history ever took a more 
lasting hold of the public mind than the " woful 
fight " of Flodden ; and, even now, the songs and 
traditions which are curi-ent on the Border recall 
the memory of the contest unsullied by disgrace, 
though torruinatinaf in disaster and defeat. 



EDINBURGH 



F L O D D E N 



News of battle ! — news of battle * 

Hark ! 'tis ringing down the street : 
And the archways and the pavement 

Bear the clang of hurrying feet. 
News of battle ! who hath brought it 1 

News of triumph "? Who should bring 
Tidings from our noble army, 

Greetinajs from our gallant Kingl 



14 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

All last night we watched the beacons 

Blazing on the hills afar, 
Each one bearing, as it kindled, 

Message of the opened \vaj 
All night long the northern streamers 

Shot across the trembling sky : 
Fearful lights, that never beckon 

Save when kings or heroes die. 



News of battle ! Who hath brought it? 

All are thronging to the gate ; 
" Warder — warder ! open quickly ! 

Man — is this a time to w^ait f 
And the heavy gates are opened : 

Then a murmur long and loud, 
And a cry of fear and wonder 

Bursts from out the bendmg crowd. 
For they see in battered harness 

Only one hard-stricken man ; 
And his weary steed is wounded, 

And his cheek is pale and wan : 



EDINBURGH AFTER ^LODDE^. 15 

Spearless hangs a bloody banner 
In his weak and drooping hand — 

God ! can that be Randolph Murray, 
Captain of the city band ? 

ni. 

Round him crush the people, crying, 

"Tell us all — oh, tell us true ! 
Where are they who went to battle, 

Randolph Murray, sworn to you"? 
Where are they, our brothers — children ? 

Have they met the English foe ? 

Why art thou alone, unfollowed? 

■» 
Is it weal or is it wo V 

Like a corpse the grisly warrior 

Looks from out his helm of steel ; 
But no word he speaks in answer — 

Only with his armed heel 
Chides his weary steed, and onward 

Up the city streets they ride ; 
Fathers, sisters, mothers, children, 

Shrieking, praying In- his side. 



10 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVA! IER8. 

" By the God that made thee, Randolph ! 

Tell us what mischance hath come." 
Then he lifts his riven banner, 

And the asker's voice is dumb. 

IV. 

The elders of the city 

Have met within their hall — 
The men whom good King James had charged 

To watch the tower and wall. 
"Your hands are weak with age," he said., 

" Your hearts are stout and true ; 
So bide ye in the Maiden Town, 

While others fight for you. 
My trumpet from the Border-side 

Shall send a blast so clear, 
That all who wait within the gate 

That stiri"ing sound may hear. 
Or, if it be the will of heaven 

That back I never come. 
And if, instead of Scottish shouts. 

Ye hear the English drum, — 



EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN. 17 

Then let the warning bells ring out, 

Then gird you to the fray, 
Then man the walls like burghers stout, 

And fight while fight you may. 
'Twere better that in fiery flame 

The roofs should thunder down, 
Than that the foot of foreign foe 

Should trample in the town !" 

V. 

Then in came Randolph Murray, — 

His step was slow and weak. 
And, as he doffed his dinted helm. 

The tears ran down his cheek : 
They fell upon his corslet 

And on his mailed hand, 
As he gazed around him wistfully, 

Leaning sorely on his brand. 
And none who then beheld him 

But straiglit were smote with fear, 
For a bolder and a sterner man 

Had never coLiehed a spear. 



18 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

They knew so sad a messenger 
Some ghastly news must bring ; 

And all of tnem were fathers, 

And their sons were with the Kinsr. 



YT.. 



And up then rose the Provost — 

A brave old man was he, 
Of ancient name, and knightly fame, 

And chivalrous degree. 
He ruled our city like a Lord 

Who brooked no equal here, 
And ever for the townsman's rights 

Stood up 'gainst prince and peer. 
And he had seen the Scottish host 

March from the Borough-muir,- 
With nmsic-storm and clamorous shimt. 
And all the din that thunuers out 

When youth's of victory sure. 
But yet a dearer thought had he, — 

For, with a father's pride, 



EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN. 19 

He saw his last reinaininij <^on 

Go forth by Randolph', ide, 
With casque on heal ana spur on hf el. 

All keen to do and dare ; 
And proudly did that gallant boy 

Dunedin's banner bear. 
Oh ! woful now was the old man's look, 

And he spake right heavily — 
"Now, Randolph tell thy tidings, 

However sharp they be ! 
Wo is written on thy visage, 

Death is looking from thy face : 
Speak ! though it be of overthrow — 

It cannot be disgrace !" 

VII. 

Right bitter was the agony 

That wrung that soldier proud : 
Thrico did he strive to answer, 

And thrice he groaned aloud. 
Then he gave the riven banner 

To the old man!s shaking hand, 



iiO LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVAMFjKS. 

Saying — "That is .ill 1 bring ye 

F'*^m the bravest of the land ! 
jvy ! ye may look upon it — 

[t was guarded well and long, 
By your brothers and your children, 

By the valiant and the strong. 
One by one they fell around it, 

As the archers laid them low, 
Grimly dying, still unconquered. 

With their faces to the foe. 
Ay ! ye may well look upon it — 

There is more than honor there, 
Else, be sure, I had not brought it 

From the field of dark despair. 
Never yet was royal banner 

Steeped in such a costly dye ; 
It hath lain upon a bosom 

Where no other shrouds shall lie. 
Sirs ! I charge you keep it holy, 

Keep it as a sacred thing, 
F"or the stain ye see upon it 

Was the life-blood of your King!'' 



EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN. 21 



Vlll. 

Wo, wo, and lamentation ! 

What a piteous cry was there ! 
Widows, maidens, mothers, children, 

Shrieking, sobbing in despair ! 
Through the streets the death-word rushes, 

Spreading terror, sweeping on — 
" Jesu Christ ! our King has fallen — 

O Great God, King James is gone ' 
Holy Mother Mary, shield us, 

Thou who erst didst lose thy Son ! 
O the blackest day for Scotland 

That she ever knew before ! 
O our King — the good, the noble, 

Shall we see him never more ? 
Wo to us, and wo to Scotland ! 

O our sons, our sons and men ! 
Surely some have 'scaped the Southorn, 

Surely some will come again !" 
Till the oak that fell last winter 

Shall uprear its shattered stem— 



22 LAtS or THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

Wives and mothers of Dunedin — 
Ye may look in vain for them ' 



IX. 



But within the Council Chamber 

All was silent as the gi-ave, 
Whilst the tempest of their sorrow 

Shook the bosoms of the brave. 
Well indeed might they be shaken 

With the weight of such a blow : 
He was gone — their prince, their idol, 

Whom they loved and worshipped sc: ! 
Like a knell of death and judgment 

Rung from heaven by angel hand. 
Fell the words of desolation 

On the elders of the land. 
Hoary heads were bowed and trembling. 

Withered hands were clasped and wrung' 
God had left the old and feeble, 

lie had ta'en away the young. 



EDl^BUK&H ATTTEK FL0DDT5K. ^ 



X. 

Then the Provost he uprose, 

And his lip was ashen white ; 
But a flush was on his brow, 

And his eye was full "of light. 
" Thou hast spoken, Randolph Murray, 

Like a soldier stout and true ; • 
Thou hast done a deed of daring 

Had been perilled but by few. 
For thou hast not shamed to face us, 

Nor to speak thy ghastly tale. 
Standing — thou a knight and captain — 

Here, alive within thy mail ! 
Now, as my God shall judge me, 

I hold it braver done, ' 
Than hadst thou tarried in thy place. 

And died above my son ! 
Thou need'st not tell it : he is dead- 

God help us all this day ! 
But speak— how fought the citizens 

Within the furious fray ! 



24 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS, 

i or, by the might of Mary ! 

'Twere something still to tell 
That no Scottish foot went backward 

When the Royal Lion fell !" 

XI. 

" No one failed him ! He is keeping 

Royal state and semblance still ; 
Rp'ght and noble lie around him, 

Cold on Flodden's fatal hill. 
Of the brave and gallant-hearted, 

Whom ye sent with prayers away, 
Not a single man departed 

From his Monarch yesterday. 
Had you seen them, O my masters ! 

When the night began to fall. 
And the English spearmen gathered 

Round a grim and ghastly wall ! 
As the wolves in winter circle 

Round the leaguer t)n the heath. 
S<^ the greedy foe glared upward. 

Panting still for blood and death. 



EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDE^. 

But a rampart rose before them, 

Which the boldest dare not scale ; 
Every stone a Scottish body* 

Every step a corpse in mail ! 
And behind it lay our Monarch, 

Clenching still his shivered sword : 
By his side Montrose and Athole, 

At his feet a Southron lord. 
All so thick they lay together, 

When the stars lit up the sky, 
That I knew not who were stricken. 

Or who yet remained to die. 
Few there were when Surrey halted, 

And his wearied host withdrew ; 
None but dying men around me, 

When the English trumpet blew. 
Then I stooped, and took the banner^ 

As you see it from his breast, 
And J closed our hero's eyelids. 

And I left him to his rest. 
In the mountains growled the thunder, 

As I leaped the woful wall, 



2t> LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALJICRS. 

And the heavy clouds were setiling 
Over FJodden, like a pail." 

XII. 

So he ended. And the others 

Cared not any answer then ; 
Sitting silent, dumb with sorrow, 

Sitting anguish-struck, like men 
Who have seen the roaring torrent 

Sweep their happy homes awaj, 
And yet linger by the margin, 

Staring wildly on the spra}-. 
But, without, the maddening tumult 

Waxes ever more and more, 
And the crowd of wailing women 

Gather round the council door. 
Every dusky spire is ringing 

With a dull and hollow knell, 
And the Miserere 's singing 

To the tolling of the bell. 
Through the streets the burghers hurry, 

Spreading terror as they go ; 



EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN. 27 

And the rampart 's thronged with watchers 

For the coming of the foe. 
From each mountain-top a pillar 

Stream^s into the torpid air. 
Bearing token from the Border 

That tne English host is there. 
All without is flight and terror, 

All within is wo and fear — 
God protect thee, Maiden City, 

For thy latest hour is near !' 



No ! not yet, thou high Dunedin ! 

Shalt thou totter to thy fall ; 
Though thy bravest and thy strongest 

Are not there to mnn the wall. 
No, not yet ! the ancient spiiit 

Of our fathers hath not gone ; 
Take it to thee as a buckler 

Better far than steel or stone. 
Oh, remember those who perished 

For thy birthright at the time 



28 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS 

When to be a Scot was treason, 

And to siflft with Wallace, crime ! 
Have they not a voice amon^ us, 

Whilst their hallowed dust is here? 
Hear ye nut a summons sounding 

From each buried warrior's bier? 
Up ! — they say — and keep the freedom 

Which we won you long ao^o ■ 
Up ! and keep your graves unsullied 

From the insults of the foe ! 
Up ! and if ye cannot save rhern, 

Come to us in blood and fire : 
Midst the crash of falling turrets, 

Let the last of Scots expire ! 

xrv. 

Still the bells are toUmg fiercely, 
And the cry comes louder in ; 

Mothers wailing for their children, 
Sislers for theii* slaughtered km. 

All is terror and disorder, 
Till the Provost rises up, 



EDINBUIiaH AFTER FLODDEN. 29 

Calm, as though he had not tasted 

Of the fell and Litter cup. 
All so stately from his sorrow. 

Rose the old undaunted Chief, 
That you had not deemed, to see him, 

His was more than common grief. 
" Rouse ye, Sirs !" he said ; " we may not . 

Longer mourn for what is done ; 
If our King be taken from us, 

We are left to guard his son. 
We have sworn to keep the city 

From the foe, what'er they be, 
And the oath that we have taken 

Never shall be broke by me. 
Death is nearer to us, brethren, 

Than it seemed to those who died, 
Fighting yesterday at Flodden, 

By their lord and master's side. 
Let us meet it then in patience. 

Not in terror or in fear ; 
Though cur hearts are bleeding yonder, 

Let our souls be steadfast here. 



so LAYS OF THE SCOTTTSH CAVALIERS. 

Up, and roi]se. ye I Time is fleeting, 

And we yet have much to do ; 
Up, and haste ye through the city, 

Stir the burghers stout and true! 
Gather all our scattered people, 

Fling the banner out once more, — 
Randolph Murray ! do thou bear it, 

As it erst was borne before : 
Never Scottish heart will leave it, 

When they see their Monarch's gore! 

XV. 

" Let them cease that dismal knelling ! 

It is time enough to ring, 
When the fortress-strength of Scotland 

Stoops to ruin like its King. 
Let the bells be kept for warning, 

Not for terror or alarm ; 
When they next are heard to thunder, 

Let each man and striplir.g arm. 
Bid the women leave their wailing — 

Do thev think that woful strain, 



EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDE^. 8^ 

From the bloody heaps of Flodden, 

Can redeem their dearest slain 1 
Bid them cease — or rather hasten 

To the churches, every one ; 
There to pray to Mary Mother, 

And to her anointed Son, 
That the thunderbolt above us 

May not fall in ruin yet ; 
That in fire and blood and rapine 

Scotland's glory may not set. 
Let them pray, — for never women 

Stood in need of such a prayer ! — 
England's yeomen shall not find them 

Clinging to the altars there. 
No ! if we are doomed to perish, 

Man and maiden, let us fall, 
And a common gulf of ruin 

Open wide to whelm us all! 
Never shall the ruthless spoiler 

Lay his hot insulting hand 
On the sisters of our heroes, 

Whilst we bear a torch or brand ! 



S2 LAYS OF THE SOOTTTSH CAVALIERS. 

Up ! and rouse ye, then, ray brothers,- 

But when next ye hear the bell 
Sounding forth the sullen summons 

That may be our funeral knell, 
Once more let us meet together, 

Once more see each other's face ; 
Then, like men that need not tremble 

Go to our appointed place. 
God, our Father, will not fail us 

In that last tremendous hour, — 
If all other bulwarks crumble. 

He will be our strength and tower 
Though the ramparts rock beneath w. 

And the w^alls go crashing down, 
Though the I'oar of conflagration 

Bellow o'er the sinking town; 
There is yet one place of shelter. 

Where the foeman cannot comr,, 
Where the summons never sounded 

Of the trumpet or the drum. 
There again we'll meet oui children, 

W'.i'\ r)^ L^'K/d^er. s trumpled sod. 



EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN. 

For their king and for their country 
Rendered up their souls to God. 

There shall we find rest and refuge, 
With our dear departed brave ; 

And the ashes of the city 
Be our universal grave !'' 



S* 



TH E EXECUTION 



MONTROSE. 



The most poetical chronicler would find it impos- 
sible to render the incidents of Montrose's brilliant 
career more picturesque than the reality. Among 
the devoted champions who, during the wildest and 
most stormy period of our history, maintained the 
cause of Church and King, " the Great Marquis " 
undoubtedly is entitled to the foremost place. Even 
party malevolence, by no means extinct at the pre- 
sent day, has been unable to detract from the eulogy 



€?f» LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAS'ALIERS. 

pronounced upon him by the famous Cardinal de 
Retz, the friend of Conde and Turenne, when he 
thus summed up his character : — " Montrose, a 
Scottish nobleman, head of the he use of Grahame 
— the only man in the world that has ever realized 
tu me the ideas of certain heroes, whom we now 
discover nowhere but in the Lives of Plutarch — has 
sustained in his own country the cause of tlie King 
his master, with a greatness of soul that has not 
found its equal in our age." 

But the success of the victorious leader and 
patriot is almost thrown into the shade by the 
noble magnanimity and Christian heroism of the 
man in the hour of defeat and death. Without 
wishing, in any degree, to revive a controversy long 
maintained by writers of opposite political and po- 
lemical opinions, it may fairly be stated that Scot- 
tish history does not present us with a tragedy of 
parallel interest. That the execution of Montrose 
was the natural, nay, the inevitable, consequence of 
his capture, may be freely admitted even by the 
fiercest partizan of the cause for which he staked his 



THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE. 37 

life. In those times, neither party was disposed to 
lenity ; and Montrose was far too conspicuous a 
character, and too dangerous a man, to be forgiven. 
But the ignominious and savage treatment which he 
received at the hands of those whose station and 
descent should at least have taught them to respect 
misfortune, has left an indelible stain upon the 
mem or) of the Covenanting chiefs, and more espe- 
cially upon that of Argyle. 

The perfect serenity of the man in the hour of 
trial and death, the courage and magnanimity which 
he displayed to the last, have been dwelt upon with 
admiration by writers of every class. He heard his 
sentence delivered without any apparent emotion, 
and afterwards told the magistrates who waited 
upon him in prison, " that he was much indebted to 
the Parliament for the great honor they had decreed 
him;" adding, "that he was prouder to have his 
head placed upon the top of the prison, than if they 
had decreed a golden statue to be erected to him 
in Ihe market-place, or that his picture should be 
hung in the King's bed-chamber." He said, " he 



S8 LiY3 OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

tlianked them for their care to preserve the remem- 
brance of his loyalty, by transmitting such monu- 
ments to the different parts of the kingdom ; and 
only wished that he had flesh enough to have sent a 
piece to every city in Christendom, as a token of 
his unshaken love and fidelity to his king and coun- 
try," On the night before his execution, he inscrib- 
ed the following lines with a diamond on the win- 
dow of his jail : — 

" Let thero bestow on every airtb a limb, 
Then open all my veins, that I may swim 
To thee, my Maker ! in that crimson lake ; 
Then plaoe my parboiled head upon a stake— 
Scatter my ashes — strew them in the air : 
Lord ! since thou know'st where all these atoms are, 
I'm hope&il thou'lt recover once my dust, 
And confident thou'lt raise me with the just." 

Afler the Restoration, the dust teas recovered, the 
scattered remnants collected, and the bones of the 
hero conveyed to their final resting-place by a 
numerous assemblage of gentlemen of his family 
and name. 



THE EXECUTION O" MONTROSE. o9 

Tliere is no ingredient of fiction in the historical 
incidents recorded in the following ballad. The 
indignities that were heaped upon Montrose during 
his procession through Edinburgh, his appearance 
before the Estates, and his last passage to the scaf- 
fold, as well as his undaunted bearing, have all been 
spoken to by eyewitness of the scene. A graphic 
and vivid sketch of the whole will be found in Mr. 
Mark Napier's volume, "The Life and Times of 
Montrose " — a work as chivalrous in it^ tone as the 
Chronicles of Eroissart, and abounding in original 
and most interesting materials ; but, in order to 
satisfy all scruple, the authorities for each fact are 
given in the shape of notes. The ballad may be 
considered as a narrative of the transactions, related 
by an aged Highlander, who had followed Montrose 
throughout his campaigns, to his grandson, shortly 
before the battle of Killiecrankie. 



THE EXECUTION 



or 



MONTROSE. 



Come hither, Evan Cameron ! 

Come, stand beside my knee — 
1 hear the river roaring down 

Towards the wintry sea. 
There's shouting on the mountain-side, 

There's war within the blast — 
Old faces look upon me, 

Old forms go trooping past. 



42 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

I hear the pibroch wailing 

Amidst the din of fight, 
And my dim spirit wakes again 

Upon the verge of night. 

II. 

'Twas I that led the Highland host 

Through wild Lochaber's snows, 
What time the plaided clans came dowTi 

To battle with Montrose, 
I've told thee how the Southrons fell 

Beneath the broad claymore, 
And how we smote the Campbell clan 

By Inverlochy's shore. 
I've told thee how we swept Dundee, 

And tamed the Lindsays' pride ; 
But never have I told thee yet 

How the great Marquis died. 

jn. 

A traitor sold him to his foes ; — 
O deed of deathless shame ! 



THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE. 43 

1 charge thee, boy, if e'er thou meet 

With one of Assjnt's name — 
Be it upon the mountain's side, 

Or yet within the glen, 
Stand he in martial gear alone, 

Or backed by armed men — 
Face him, as thou wouldst face the man 

Who wronged thy sire's renown ; 
Remember of what blood thou art. 

And strike the caitiff down ! 

IV. 

They brought him to the Watergate, 

Hard bound with hempen span. 
As though they held a lion there, 

And not a fenceless man. 
They set him high upon a cart — 

The hangman rode below — 
They drew his hands behind his back, 

And bared his noble brow. 
Then, as a hound is slipped from leash, 

Thev cheered the common thronff. 



44 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

And blew the note with yell and shout, 
And bade him pass along. 

V. 

It would have made a brave man's heart 

Grow sad and sick that day, 
To watch the keen malignant eyes 

Bent down on that array. 
There stood the Whig west-country lords 

In balcony and bow ; 
There sat their gaunt and withered dames, 

And their daughters all a-row. 
And every open window 

Was full as full might be 
With black-robed Covenanting carles, 

That goodly sport to see ! 

VI. 

But when he came, though pale and w-ic, 
He looked so great and high, 

So noble was his manly front, 
So calm his steadfast eye ; — 



THE EXECUIION OF MONTROSE. 45 

The rabble rout forbore to shout, 

And each man held his breath. 
For well they knew the hero's seal 

Was face to face with death. 
And then a mournful shudder 

Through all the people crept, 
And some that came to scoff at him 

Now turned aside and wept. 

VII. 

But onwards — always onwards, 

Tn silence and in gloom, 
The drear} ^ageant labored. 

Till it reaci. J the house of doom. 
Then first a woman's voice was heard 

Tn jeer and laughter loud. 
And an angry cry and a hiss arose 

From the heart of the tossing crowd : 
Then, as the Grseme looked upwards, 

He saw the ugly smile 
Of him who sold his king for gold — 

The master-fiend Argyle ! 



40 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIER8. 

VIll. 

The Marquis gazed a moment, 

And nothing did he say, 
But the cheek of Argyle grew ghastly pale, 

And he turned his eyes away. 
The painted harlot by his side, 

She shook through every limb, 
For a roar like thunder swept the street, 

And hands were clenched at him ; 
And a Saxon soldier cried aloud, 

" Back, coward, from thy place ! 
For seven long years thou hast not dared 

To look him in the face." 

IX. 

Had I been there with sword in hand, 

And fifty Camerons by. 
That day through high Dunedin's streets 

Had pealed the slogan-cry. 
Not all their troops of trampling horse, 

Nor might of mailed men — 



THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE. 47 

Not all the rebels in the south 

Had borne us backwards thea 1 
Once more bis foot on Highland heath 

Had trod as free as air, 
Of I, and all who bore my name, 

Bren laid around him there ! 



X. 

It might not be. They placed him next 

Within the solemn hall, 
Where once the Scottish kings were throned 

Amidst their nobles all. 
But there was dust of vulgar feet 

On that polluted floor, 
And perjured traitors filled the place 

Where good men sate betore. 
With savage glee came Warriston 

To read the murderous doom ; 
And then uprose the great l^ntrose 

In the middle of the room. 



4S LAYS OF TFIE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

XI. 

" Now, by my faith as belted knight. . 

And by the name I bear, 
And by the bright Saint Andrew's cro.vs 

That waves above us there — 
Yea, by a greater, mightier oath — 

And oh, that such should be ! — 
By that dark stream of royal blood 

That lies 'twixt you and me — 
I have not sought in battle-field 

A wreath of such renown. 
Nor dared I hope on my dying day 

To win the martyr's crown ! 

ZII. 

" There is a chamber far away 
Where sleep the good and brave. 

But a better place ye have named tor me 
Than by my fathers' grave. 

For truth and^right, 'gainst treason's might, 
This hand hath always striven, 



'the execution of MONTROSE. 4-9 

And ye raise it up for a witness still 

In the eye of earth and heaven. 
Then nail my head on yonder tower — 

Give every town a limb — 
And God who made shall gather tliem : 

I go from you to Him !" 



XIII. 

The morning dawned full darkly, 

The rain came flashing down, 
And the jagged streak of the levin-bolt 

Lit up the gloomy town : 
The thunder crashed across the heaven, 

The fatal hour was come ; 
Yet aye broke in, with muffled beat, 

The 'larum of the drum. 
There was madness on the earth below 

And anger in the sky, 
And young and old, and rich and poor, 

Came forth to see him die. 



50 LAYS OF THE SCOTllSH CAVAl.lEKS. 

XTV, 

Ah, God ! that ghastly gibbet ! 

How dismal 'tis to. see 
The great tall spectral skeleton, 

The ladder and the tree ! 
Hark ! hark ! it is the clash of arms — 

The bells begin to toll — 
" He is coming ! he is coming ! 

God's mercy on hir, soul !" 
One last long peal of thunder — 

The clouds are cleared away, 
And the glorious sun once more looks lawn 

Amidst the dazzling day. 

XV. 

" He is coming ! he is coming !" 
Like a bridegroom from his room, 

Came the hero from his prison 
To the scaffold and the doom. 

There was ajlory on his forehead, 
There was lustre in his eye, 



THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE. 51 

And he never walked to battle 

More proudly than to die ; 
There was color in his visage, 

Though the cheeks of all were wan, 
And they marvelled as they saw him pass, 

That great and goodly man ! 



XVT. 

He mounted up the s:affjld, 

And he turned him to the crowd ; 

But they dared not trust the people. 
So he might not speak aloud. 

But he looked upon the heavens, 
And they were clear and blue. 

And in the liquid ether 

The eye of God shone through . 

Yet a black and murky battlement 
Lay resting on !:he hill. 

As though the thunder slept within- 
All else was caJm and still. 



5ii LATB OP THE SCOrnSH CAVALIERS. 



XVII. 

The grim Geneva ministers 

With anxious scowl drew near, 
As you have seen the ravens flock 

Around the dying deer. 
He would not deign them word nor sign, 

But alone he bent the knee; 
And veiled his face for Christ's dear grace 

Beneath the gallows-tree. 
Then radiant and serene he rose, 

And cast his cloak away : 

For he had ta'en his latest look 

Of earth and sun and day. 

xviii. 
A beam of light fell o'er him, 

Like a glory ]-ound the shriven, 
And he climbed the lofty ladder 

As it were the ^ath to heaven. 
Then came a flash from out the cloud, 

And a stunning thunder-roll ; 



TFTE EXECUriON OF MOKTROSfi. 

And no man dared to look aloft, 
For fear was on every soul. 

There was another heavy sound, 
A hush and then a groan ; 

And darkness swept across the sky — 
The work of death was done ! ^ 



NOTES TO " THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE. 



' A traitor sold him to his foes!" — P. 42. 



'• The contemporary historian of tlie Earls of Sutherland 
r»^cords, that (after the defeat of Invercarron) Montrose and 
Kinnoul 'wandered up the river Kyle the whole ensuing 
night, and .the next day, and the third day also, without any 
food or sustenance, and at last came witliin the country of 
Assynt. The Earl of Kinnoul, being faint for lack of meat, 
and not able to travel any farther, was left thei-e among the 
mountains, wliere it was supposed he perislied. Montrose 
had almost famished, but that he fortuned in his misery to 
light upon a small cottage in that wilderness, where he wa.s 
supplied with some milk and bread.' Not even the iroii 
frame of Montrose could endure a prolonged existence under 
such circumstances. He gave himself up to Macleod of 
Assynt, a former adherent, from whom he had reason to 
expect assistance in consideration of that circumstance, and, 
indeed, from the dictates of honorable feeling and common 
humanity. As the Argyle faction had sold the King, so 
this Higlilander rendered his own name infamous by selling 
the hero to the Covenanters, for which ' duty to the public' 
he was rewarded with four hundred bolls of meal.'' — 
Napikb's TAfp of MontroRf. 



THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE. 55 



** They brought him to the Watergate'" — P. 48. 

^'Friday, 11th 3fay. — Act ordaining James Griahame to he 
brought from the Wateigate on a cait, bareheaded, the hang- 
man in his livery, covered, riding on the horse that draws tlse 
cart — the prisoner to be bound to the cart with a rope — to tlie 
Tolbooth of Edinburgh, and from thence to be brought to the 
Parhament House, and there, in the place of delinquents, on 
his knees, to receive his sentence — viz., to be hanged on a gib- 
bet at the cross of Edinburgh, with his book and declarati-^n 
tied on a rope about his neck, and there to hang for the space 
of three hours until he be dead ; and thereafter to be cut down 
by the hangman, his head, liands, and legs to be cut off, and 
distributed as follows : viz., his head to be affixed on an iron 
pin, and set on the pinnacle of the west gavel of the new 
prison of Edinburgh ; one hand to be set on the port of Perth, 
the other on the port of Stii-hng ; one leg and foot on the port 
of Aberdeen, the otlier on tlie port of Grlasgow. If, at his 
death, penitent, and relaxed from excommunication, then the 
trunk of his body to be interred, by pioneers, in the Grey friars : 
otherwise, to be interred, in the Boroughmuir, by the hang- 
man's men, under the gallows." — Balfour's JSfotes of Parlia- 
ment. 

It is needless to remark that this inhuman sentence was 
executed to the letter. In order that the exposure might be 
more complete, the cart was constructed with a high chair in 
the centre, having holes behind, through which the ropes that 
fastened him were drawn. The author of the Wigtown Papers, 
recently published by the Maitland Ckib. says : " The reason 



56 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

of liis being tied to the cart was in hope that the people would 
have stoned him, and that lie might not be able, by his hands, 
to save his face." His hat was then pulled off by the hang- 
man, and the procession commenced. 

"But when he came, though pale and wan, 
He looked so great and high!' — P. 44. 

" In all the way, there appeared in him such majesty, cour- 
age, modesty — and even somewliat more Inan natural — that 
those common women, who had lost their husbands and child- 
ren in his wars, and who were hired to stone him, were, upon 
the sight of him, so astonished and moved, that their intended 
curses turned into tears and prayers ; so that next day all the 
ministers preached against them for not stoning and reviling 
him." — Wigton Papers. 

"Then Jirst a woman\ voice was heard 
In jeer and laughter loud!' — P. 45. 

" 1+ is remarkable that, of the many thousand beholders, 
the Lady Jean Gordon, Countess of Hadingtoii, did (alone) 
publicly insult and laugh at him ; wliicli, being perceived by a 
gentleman in the street, he cried up to her, that it became her 
better to sit upon the cart for her adulteries." — Wigton Papers. 
This infamous woman was tlie third daugliter of Huntly, and 
+he niece of Argyle. It will hardly be credited that she waa 
the sister of that gallant Lord Gordon, who fell fighting by 
the side of Montrose, only five years before, at the battle of 
Aldford ! 



THE EXECUTION OF M0NTR0f5E. 57 



'■'For seven long years thou hast not dared 
To look him in the face" — P. 46. 

" The Lord Lorn and his new lady were also sitting on a 
1 alcony,jovful spectators ; and the cart being stopped wlienit 
came before the lodging where the Chancellor, Argyle, and 
Warristoun sat — that they might have time to insult — he, sus- 
pecting the business, turned his face towards them, whereupon 
they presently crept in at the windows ; which being perceived 
by an Englishman, he cried up, it was no wonder they started 
aside at his look, for they durst not look him in the face these 
seven years bygone." — Wigtoyi Papers. 

" With, savage glee came Warristoun 
To read the imirderous doom!' — P. 47. 

Archibald Johnston of Warristoun. This man, who was the 
inveterate enemy of Montrose, and who earned the most selfish 
spirit into every intrigue of his party, received the punishment 
of his treasons about eleven years afterwards. It may be in- 
structive to learn how he met his doom. The following extract 
is from the MSS. of Sir George Mackenzie : " The Chancellor 
and others waited to examine him ; he fell upon his face, roar- 
ing, and with tears entreated they would pity a poor creature 
■who had forgot all that was in the Bible. This moved all the 
spectators with a deep melancholy; and the Chancellor, re 
fleeting upon the man's great parts, former esteem, and the 
great share he had in all the late revolutions, could not deny 
some tears to the frailty of silly mankind. At his examina' 
3* 



58 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVAL1EH5. 

tion, lie pretended he had lost so much blood bv the iinskil- 
fulness of his chirurgeons, that he lost his memory with his 
blood ; and I really believe that his courage had been drawn 
out with it. Within a few days, he was brouglit before the 
parliament, where he discovered nothing but much weakness, 
running up and down upon his knees, begging mercv ; but the 
parliament ordained his former sentence to be put to execu- 
tion, and accordingly he was executed at the Cross of Edin- 
burgh." 

"And God who made, shall gather them ; 
I go from you to him r — P. 49. 

" He said he was much beholden to the parliament for the 
honor they put on him; 'for,' says he, ' I think it a greater 
honor to have my head standing on the port of this town, for 
tliis quarrel, than to have my picture in the kings bed-cliain- 
ber. I am beholden to you that, lest my loyalty should be 
forgotten, ye have appointed five of your most eminent towns 
to bear witness of it to posterity.' ' — Wigton Paperx. 



'^He is coming ! he is coming '. 
Like a bridegroom from his room!' — P. 50. 

" Tn his (lowngoings from the Tolbooth to the place of exe- 
cution, he was very richly clad in fine scarlet, lai'i ()ver with 
rich silver lace, liis hat in his hand, his bands and cuffs 
('xcecding rich, liis delicate Avhite gloves on his hands, liis 
stockii;fc-s of incarnate silk, and his shoes with their ribbous 



THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE. 59 

on his feet ; and sarks provided for him with pearli^jig about, 
above ten pound the elne. All these were provided for him 
by his friends, and a pretty cassock put on upon him, upon 
the scaffold, wherein he was hanged. To be short, nothing 
was here deficient to honor his poor carcase, more beseeming 
a bridegroom than a criminal going to the gallows." — Nich 
oll's Diary. 

"The grim Geneva ministers 
With anxious scowl drew near." — P. 52. 

The Presbyterian ministers beset Montrose both in prison 
and on tlie scaffold. The following extracts are from the 
diary of the Rev. Robert Traill, one of the persons who weie 
appointed by the commission of the kirk " to deal with him." 
" By a warrant from the kirk, we staid a while with him about 
his soul's condition. But we found him continuing in his old 
pride, and taking very ill what was spoken to him, saying, ' 1 
pray you, gentlem-en, let me die in peace.' It was answered 
that he niight die in true peace, being reconciled to the Jjcrd 
and to his kirk." " We returned to the commission and did 
show unto them what had passed amongst us. They, seeing 
that for the present he was not desiring relaxation from his 
censure of excommunication, did appoint Mr. Mungo Law and 
me to attend on the morrow on the scaffold, at the time of his 
execution, that, in case he should desire to be relaxed from his 
excommunication, we should be allowed to give it unto him iu 
the name of the kirk, and to pray with him, and for him, that 
what is loosed on earth might he loosed in heaven!' But this 
pious intention, which may appear s^miewhat strange to th^' 



60 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

modern Calvinist, when the prevailing theories of the kirk re 
garding the eflBcacy of absolution are consideied, was nort des- 
tined to be fulfilled. Mr. Traill goes on to say, " But he did 
not at all desire to be relaxed from his excommunication in 
the name of the kirk, yea, did not look towards that place on 
the scaffold where we stood; only he drew apart some of the 
magistrates, and spake a while with them, and then went up 
the ladder, in his red scarlet cassock, in a \ jr> stately manner. 



"And he climbed the lofty ladder 
As it vjere the path to heaven!^ — P. 52. 

" He was very earnest that he might have the liberty txi 
keep on liis hat— it was denied : he requested he might have 
tlie privilege to keep his cloak about him — neither could that 
be granted. Then, with the most undaunted courage, he went 
up to the top of that prodigious gibbet." " The whole people 
gave a general gioan ; and it was very observable, that even 
those who, at his first appearance, had bitterly inveigliod 
against him, could not now abstain from tears." — Mov(ros( 
Redivivus. 



THE HEART 



THE BRUCE, 



Hector Boece, in his very delightful, though 
somewhat apocryphal Chronicles of Scotland, tells 
us, that " quhen Schir James Douglas was chosin 
as maist worthy of all Scotland to pass with King 
Robertis hart to the Holy Land, he put it in ane 
cais of gold, with arromitike and precious unye- 
mentis ; and tuke with him Schir William Sinclare 
and Schir Robert Logan, with mony othir nobilmen, 
to the haly graif ; quhare he buryit the said hart, 



62 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVAIIERS, 

•with raaist reverence and solempnitie that could be 
devisit." 

But no contemporary historian bears out the state- 
ment of the old Canon of Aberdeen. Froissart, 
Fordun, and Barbour all agree that the devotional 
pilgrimage of the Good Sir James was not destined 
to be accomplished, and that the heart of Scotland's 
greatest king and hero was brought back to the land 
of his nativity. Mr. Tytler, in few words, has so 
graphically recounted the leading events of this 
expedition, that I do not hesitate to adopt his nar- 
rative : — 

" As soon as the season of the year permitted, 
Douglas, having the heart of his beloved master un- 
der his charge, set sail from Scotland, accompanied 
by a splendid retinue, and anchored off Sluys in 
Flanders, at this tim^e the great seaport of the 
Netherlands. His object was to find out companions 
with whom he might travel to Jerusalem ; but he 
declined landing, and for twelve days received all 
visitors on board his ship with a state almost kingly. 

" At Sluys he heard that Alonzo, the king of Leon 



THE HEART OF THE BRUCE. 63 

anJ Castile, was carrying on war with Osmyn, the 
Moorish governor of Granada. The religious mis- 
sion which he had embraced, and the vows he had 
taken before leaving Scotland, induced Douglas to 
consider Alonzo's cause as a holy warfare; and, 
before proceeding to Jerusalem, he first determined 
to visit Spain, and to signalize his prowess against 
the Saracens. , But his first field against the Infidels 
proved fatal to him who, in the long English war, 
had seen seventy battles. The circumstances of his 
death were striking and characteristic. In an action 
near Theba, on the borders of Andalusia, the Moor- 
ish cavalry were defeated ; and, after their camp had 
been taken, Douglas, with his companions, engaged 
too eagerly in the pursuit, and being separated from 
the main body of the Spanish army, a strong divi- 
sion of the Moors rallied and surrounded them. The 
Scottish knight endeavored to cut his way through 
the Infidels, and in all probability would have 
succeeded, had he not again turned to rescue Sir 
William Saint Clair of Roslin, whom he saw in 
jeopardy. In attempting this, he was inextricably 



64 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVi.LIEKP. 

involved with the enemy. Taking from his neck the 
casket which contained the heart of Brt ce, he east 
it. before him and exclaimed with aloud voice, * Now 
pass onward as thou were wont, and Douglas will 
follow thee or die !' The action and the sentiment 
were heroic, and thev were the last words and deed 
of a heroic life, for Douglas fell overpowered by 
his enemies • and three of his kniorhts, and many of 
his companions, were slain along with their master. 
On the succeeding day, the hody and the casket 
were both found on the field, and by his surviving 
friends conveyed to Scotland. The heart of Bruce 
was deposited at Melrose, and the body of the 
' Good Sir James' — the name by which he is affec- 
tionately remembered by his countrymen — was 
consigned to the cemetery of his fatiiers in the parish 
church of Douglas." 

A nobler death on the field of battle is not re- 
corded in the annals of chivalry. In memory of this 
expedition, the Douglases have ever since carried 
the armorial bearings of the Bloody Heart sur- 
mounted by the Crown ; and a similar distinctioo 



THE HEART OF THE BRUCE. 65 

Is borne by another family. Sir Simon of Lee, a 
distinguished companion of Douglas, was the person 
on whom, after the fall. of his leader, the custody of 
the heart devolved. Hence the name of Lockhart. 
and their ef^gy, the Heart within a Fetterlock.. 



IHE HEART 



THE BRUCE, 



It was upon an April morn, 
While yet the frost lay hoar, 

We heard Lord James's bugle-horn 
Sound by the rocky shore. 

II. 

Then down we went, a hundred knights, 

All in our dark array, 
A.nd flung our armor in the ships 

That rode within the bay. 



68 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

III. 

We spoke not as the shore grew les?, 

But gazed in silence back, 
Where the long billows swept away 

The foam behind our truck. 

IV. 

And aye the purple hues decayed 

Upon the fading hill, 
And but one heart in all that ship 

Was tranquil, cold, and still. 

V. 

The good Lord Douglas paced the deck, 

And oh, his face was wan ! 
Unlike the flush it used to wear 

When in the battle-van. — 

VI. 

" Come hither, come hither, my trusty knight, 
Sir Simon of the Lee ; 
There is a freit lies near my soul 
I fain would tell to thee. 



TflE HEART OF THE BRUCE. G9 

VII. 

" Thou know'st the words King Robert spoke 
Upon his dying day : 
How he bade me take his noble heart 
And carry it far away ; 

VIII. 

" And lay it in the holy soil 
Where once the Savior trod, 
Since he might not bear the blessed Cross, 
Nor strike or.e blow for God. 

IX. 

" Last night as ir;. my bed I lay, 
I dream'd a dreary dream : — 
Methought I saw a Pilgrim stand 
In the moonlight's quivering beani. 



" His robe was of the azure dye, 
Snow-white his scatter'd hairs, 
And even such a cross he bort) 
As good Saint Andrew bears. 



70 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERc5. 

XI. 

" ' Why go ye forth, Lord James,' he said. 
' With spear and belted brand ? 
Why do you take its dearest pledge 
From this our Scottish land 1 

XII. 

" ' The sultry breeze of Galilee 

Creeps through its groves of palm, 
The olives on the Holy Mount 
Stand glittering in the calm. 

XIII. 

" ' But 'tis not there that Scotland's heart 
Shall rest by God's decree, 
Till the great angel calls the dead 
To rise from eai'th and sea ! 



'* * Lord James of Douglas, mark my rede 
That heart shall pass once more 
In fiery fight against the foe, 
As it was wont of yore. 



THE HEART OF THE BRUCE. 71 

XV. 

" ' And it shall pass beneath the Cross, 
And save King Robert's vow ; 
But other hands shall bear it back, 
Not, James of Douglas, thou !' 

XVI. 

" Now, by thy knightly faith, I pray, 
Sir Simon of the Lee — 
For truer friend had never man 
Than thou has been to me — 

XVII. 

" If ne'er upon the Holy Laud 
'Tis mine in life to tread, 
Bear thou to Scotland's kindly earth 
The relics of her dead.'' 



The tear was in Sir Simon's eye 
As he wrung the warrior's hand — 
" Betide me weal, betide me wo, 
I'll hold bv thv oommand. 



7*2 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVAT,TEE.S. 

XIX. 

'■' But if ill battle-front, Lord James, 
'Tis ours once more to ride, 
Nor force of man, nor craft of fiend, 
Shall cleave me from thy side !" 

XX. 

And aye we sailed and aye we sailed, 

Across the weary sea, 
Until one morn the coast of Spain 

Rose grimly on our lee. 

XXI. 

And as we rounded to the port, 
Beneath the watch-tower's wall. 

We heard the clash of the atabals, 
And the trumpet's wavering call. 

XXII. 

" Why sounds yon Eastern music here 
So wantonly and long, 
And whose the crowd of armed men 
That round yon standard throng !" 



THE HEART OF THE BRUCE. ii 

XXIII. 

" The Moors have come from Africa 
To spoil and waste and slay, 
And King Alonzo of Castile 
Must fight with them to-day.'* 

XXIV. 

Now shame it were," cried good Lord James, 

" Shall never be said of me, 
That I and mine have turned aside 

From the Cross in jeopardie ! 

XXV. 

'•' Have down, have down, my merry men al ■ — 
Have down unto the plain ; 
We'll let the Scottish liou loose 
Within the fields of Spain !" 

XXVI. 

" Now welcome to me, noble lord. 
Thou and thy stalwart power ; 
Dear is the sight of a Christian knight, 
Who comes in such an hour ! 

4- 



LAYS *'»F THE SCOTTISH CAVALIiJRS; 
XXVII. 

" Is it fbr bond or faith you couie. 
Or yet for golden fee 1 
Or bring ye France's lilies here, 
Or the flower of Burgundie !'"' 

XXVIII. 

" God greet thee well, thou valiant king, 
Thee and thy belted peers — 
Sir James of Douglas am I called, 
And these are Scottish spears. 

XXIX. 

^* We do not fight for bond or plight, 
Nor yet for golden fee ; 
But for the sake of our blessed Lord, 
Who died upon the tree. 

XXX. 

"We bring our great king Robert's heart; 
Across the weltering wave, 
To Jay it in the holy soil 
Haid by the Savior's grave. 



THE HEART OF THE BRUCE. 75 

XXXI. 

•*True piJgriras we, by land or sea. 
Where danger bars the way ; 
And therefore are we here, Lord King, 
To ride with thee this day !" 

XXXII. 

The King has bent his stately head, 
And the tears were in his eyne— 
" God's blessing on thee, noble knight, 
For this brave thought of thine ! 

XXXIII. 

" I know thy name full well, Lord James ; 
And honored may I be, 
That those who fought beside the Bruce 
Should fight this day for me ! 

XXXIV. 

"Take thou the leading of the van. 
And charge the Moors amain ; 
There is not such a lance as thine 
In all the host of Spaip !" 



7b l^YS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS 

XXXV. 

The Douglas turned towards us then, 
Oh but his glance was high I — 
" There is not one of all my men 
But is as bold as I. 

XXXVI. 

*■' There is not one of all my knights 
But bears as true a spear — 
Then onwards. Scottish gentlemen, 
And think King Robert's here !" 

XXXVII. 

The trumpets blew, the cross-bolts flew, 
The arrows flashed like flame, 

As spur in side, ;ind spear in rest, 
Against the foe we came. 

XXXV 111. 

And many a bearded Saracen 

Went down, both horse and man ; 

For thr'ough their ranks we rode like com, 
So furiously we ran ! 



THE HEART OP THE BRUCE. V7 



But in behind our path they closed, 
Though fain to let us through, 

For they were forty thousand men, 
And we were wondrous few. 



We might not see a lance's length. 

So dense was their array. 
But the long fell sweep of the Scottish blade 

Still held them hard at bay. 

XLI. 

'•* Make in ! make in !" Lord Douglas cried — 
" Make in, my brethren dear ! 
Sir William of Saint Clair is down ; 
We may not leave him here !" 

XLII. 

But thicker, thicker grew the swarm, 

And sharper shot the rain. 
And the horses reared amid the press, 

But they would not charge again. 



7tt LAYS OF THK SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

XLIIT. 

" Now Jesu help thee," said Lord James, 
" Thou kind and true St. Clair ! 
An' if I may not bring thee off, 
I'll die beside thee there !" 

XLIV. 

Then in his stirrups up he stood, 

So lionlike and bold. 
And held the precious heart aloft 

All in its case of gold, 

XLV. 

He flung it from him, far ahead, 

And never spake he more. 
But — " Pass thee first, thou dauntless heart 

As thou wert wont of yore !" 

XLVI. 

The roar of fight rose fiercer yet, 

And heavier still the stour. 
Till the spears of Spain came shivering in, 

And swept away the Moor. 



THE HEART OF THE BRUCE. 79 

XLVII. 

" Now praised be. God, the day is won ! 
They fly o'er flood and fell — 
Why dost thou draw the rein so hard, 
Good knight, that fought so well f 

XLVIII. 

'* Oh, ride ye on, Lord King !" he said, 
" And leave the dead to me. 
For I must keep the dreariest watch 
That ever I shall dree ! 

XLIX. 

" There lies, above his master's heart, 
The Douglas, stark and grim ; 
And wo is me I should be here, 
Not side by side with him ! 



" The world grows cold, my arm is old, 
And thin my lyart hair, 
And all that I loved best on earth 
Is stretched before me there. 



80 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

LI. 

'^ O Bothwell banks ! that bloom so bright 
Beneath the sun of May, 
The heaviest cloud that ever blew 
Is bound for you this day. 

LII. 

^' And Scotland ! thou iriay'st veil thy head 
In sorrow and in pain : 
The sorest stroke upon thy brow 
Hath fallen this day in Spain ! 

LIII. 

" We'll bear them back unto our ship, 
We'll bear them o'er the ^ea, 
And lay them in the hallowed earth. 
Within our own countrie. 

LIV. 

" And be thou strong of heart, l.^ord King- 
For this I tell thee sure, 
The sod that drank the Douglas' blood 
Shall never bear the Mocr !" 



THE HEART OF THE BRUCE. 81 

LV. 

The King he lighted from his horse, 

He flung his brand away, 
And took the Douglas by the hand, 

So stately as he lay. 

LVI. 

' God give thee rest, thou valiant soul ! 

That fought so well. for Spain; 
Fd rather half my land were gone, 

So thou wert here again !" 

LVII. 

We bore the good Lord James away, 
x\nd the priceless heart we bore, 

And heavily we steered our ship 
Towards the Scottish shore. 

LVIII. 

No welcome greeted our return. 

Nor clang of martial tread, 

But all were dumb and hushed ss deatli 

Before the mighty dead. 
4* 



S2 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

LIX. 

We laid our chief in Douglas Kirk, 
The heart in fair Melrose ; 

And woful men were we that day — 
God grant their souls repose ! 



THE BURIAL-MARCH 



DUNDEE. 



It is very much to be regretted that no com- 
petent person has as yet undertaken the task of 
compiling a full and authentic biography of Lord 
Viscount Dundee. His memory has consequently 
been left at the mercy of misrepresentation and 
malignity ; and the pen of romance has been freely 
employed to portray as a bloody assassin one of 
the most accomplished men and gallant soldiers of 
his age. 

It was the misfortune of Claverhouse to havp 



84 LArS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

lived in so troublous an age and country. The 
religious differences of Scotland were then at their 
greatest height, and there is hardly any act of atro 
city and rebellion which had not been committed 
by the insurgents. ITie royal authority -was openly 
and publicly disowned in the western districts : 
the Archbishop of St. Andrews, after more than one 
hairbreadth escape, was waylaid and barbarously 
murdered by an armed gang of fanatics on Magus 
Muir ; and his daughter was wounded and mal- 
treated while interceding for the old man's life. The 
country was infested by banditti, who took every 
possible opportunity of shooting down and mas- 
sacring any of the straggling soldiery ; the clergy 
were attacked and driven from their houses ; so 
that, throughout a considerable portion of Scotland, 
there was no security either for property or for life. 
It is now the fashion to praise and magnify the 
Covenanters as the most innocent and persecuted of 
men ; but those who are so ready with their sym-' 
pathy rarely take the pains to satisfy themselves, 
by reference to the annals of the time, of the true 



THE BURIAL-MARCH OF DUNDEE. 85 

character of those men whom they blindly venerate 
as martyrs. They forget, in their zeal for religious 
freedom, that even the purest and holiest of causes 
may be sullied and disgraced by the deeds of its 
upholders, and that a wild and frantic profession of 
faith is not always a test of genuine piety. It is 
not in the slightest degree necessary to discuss 
whether the royal prerogative was at that time 
arbitrarily used, or whether the religious freedom 
of the nation was unduly curtailed. Both points 
may be, and indeed are, admitted — for it is impos- 
sible altogether to vindicate the policy of the 
measures adopted by the two last monarchs of the 
house of Stuart ; but neither admission will clear 
the Covenanters from the stain of deliberate cruelty. 
After the battle of Philiphaugh, the royalist 
prisoners were butchered in cold blood, under the 
superintendence of a clerical emissary, who stood 
by rubbing his hands, and exclaiming — " The wark 
gangs bonnily on!" Were I to transcribe, from 
the pamphlets before me, the list of the murders 
which were perpetrated by the country people on 



86 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

the soldiery, officers, and gentlemen of loyal prin- 
ciples, during the reign of Charles II., I believe tiat 
no candid person would be surprised at the severe 
retaliation which was made. It must be remem- 
bered that the country was then under military 
law, and that the strictest orders had been issued 
by the Government to the officers in command ol 
the troops, to use every means in their power for 
the effectual repression of the disturbances. The 
necessity of such orders will become apparent, 
when we reflect that, besides the open actions at 
Aird's Moss and Drumclog, the city of Glasgow 
was attacked and the royal forces compelled for a 
time to fall back upon Stirling. 

Under such circumstances, it is no wonder if the 
.soldiery were severe in their reprisals. Innocent 
blood may no doubt have been shed, and in some 
cases even wantonly ; for when rebellion has grown 
into civil war, and the ordinary course of the law is 
put in abeyance, it is always impossible to restrain 
military license. But it is most unftiir to lay the 
whole odium of such acts upon those who were in 



THE BURIAL-MARCH OF DUNDEE. 87 

command, and to dishonor the fair name of gentle^ 
men, bv attributing to them personally the com- 
mission of deeds of which they were absolutely 
ignorant. To this day the peasantry of the western 
districts of Scotland entertain the idea that Claver- 
house was a sort of fiend in human shape, tall, 
muscular, and hideous in aspect, secured by 
infernal spells from the chance of perishing by 
any ordinary weapon, and mounted on a huge 
black horse, the especial gift of Beelzebub ! On 
this charger it is supposed that he could ride up 
precipices as easily as he could traverse the level 
ground — that he was constantly accompanied by 
a body of desperadoes, vulgarly known by such 
euphonious titles as " Hell's Tarn," and " the De'il's 
Jock," and that his whole time was occupied, day 
and night, in hunting Covenanters upon the hills ! 
Almost every rebel who was taken in arms and 
shot, is supposed to have met his death from the 
individual pistol of Claverhouse ; and the tales 
which, from time to time, have been written by 
such ingenious persons as the late Mr. Gait and the 



8o LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERfl- 

Ettrick Shepherd, have quietly been assumed as 
facts, and added to the store of our traditionary 
knowledge. It is in vain to hint that the chief 
commanders of the forces in Scotland could have 
found little leisure, even had they possessed the 
taste, for pursuing single insurgents. Such sugges- 
tions are an . insult to martyrology ; and many 
a parish of the west would be indignant were it 
averred that the tenant of its gray stone had suf- 
fered by a meaner hand. 

When we look at the portrait of Claverhouse, 
and survey the calm, melancholy and beautiful 
features of the devoted soldier, it appears almost 
incredible that he should ever have suffered under 
such an overwhelming load of misrepresentation. 
But when — discarding modern historians, who in 
too many instances do not seem to entertain the 
slightest scruple in dealing with the memory of 
the dead* — we turn to the writings of his con- 
temporaries who knew the man, his character 
appears in a very different light. They describe 
* Vid£ Appendix. 



THE BURIAL-MARCH OF DrXDEE. 89 

him as one who was stainless in his honor, pure m 
his faith, wise in council, resolute in action, and 
utterly free from that selfishness which disgraced 
many of the Scottish statesmen of the time. No 
one dares question his loyalty, for he sealed that 
confession with his blood : and it is universally 
admitted, that with him fell the last hopes of the 
reinstatement of the house of Stuart. 

I may perhaps be permitted here, in the absence 
of a better chronicler, to mention a few particulars 
of his life, which, I believe, are comparatively un- 
known. John Grahame of Claverhouse was a cadet 
of the family of Fintrie, connected by intermarriage 
with the blood-royal of Scotland. After completing 
his studies at the University of St. Andrews, he en- 
tered, as was the national custom for gentlemen of 
good birth and limited means, into foreign service ; 
seryed some time in France as a volunteer, and 
afterwards went to Holland. He very soon received 
a commission, as a cornet in a regiment of horse- 
guards, from the Prince of Orange, nephew of 
Charles II. and James YIL, and who afterwards 



90 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

married che Princess Mary. His manner at that 
time is thus described: — "He was then an esquire, 
under the title of John Grahame of Claverhouse; 
but the vivacity of his parts, and the delicacy and 
justice of his understanding and judgment, joined 
with a certain vigor of mind and activity of body, 
distinguished him in such a manner from all others 
of his rank, that though he lived in a superior cha- 
racter, yet he acquired the love and esteem of all 
his equals, as well as of those who had the advan- 
tage of him in dignity and estate." 

By one of those singular accidents which we 
occasionally meet with in history, Grahame, after- 
wards destined to become his most formidable 
opponent, saved the life of the Prince of Orange 
at the battle of St. Neff. The Prince's horse had 
been killed, and he himself was in the grasp of 
the enemy, when the young cornet rode to his 
rescue, freed him from his assailants, and mounted 
him on his own steed. For this service he received 
a captain's commission, and the promise of the first 
regiment that should fall vacant. 



1 



THE BURIAL-MARCH OF DUNDEE. 91 

But, even in early life, William of Orange was 
not famous for keeping his promises. Some years 
afterwards, a vacancy in one of the Scottish regi- 
ments in the Prince's service occurred, and Claver- 
house, relying upon the previous assurance, pre- 
ferred his claim. It was disregarded, and Mr. Col- 
lier, afterwards. Earl of Portmore, w^as appointed 
over his head. It would seem that Grahame had 
suspected some foul play on the part of this gentle- 
man, for, shortly after, they accidentally met and 
had an angry altercation. This circumstance having 
come to the ears of the Prince, he sent for Captain 
Grahame, and administered a sharp rebuke. I give 
the remainder of this incident in ^the words of the 
old writer, because it must be considered a very 
remarkable one, as illustrating the fiery spirit and 
dauntless independence of Claverhouse. 

'•The Captain answered, that he was indeed in 
the wrong, since it was more his Highness's busi 
ness to have resented that quarrel than his; be- 
cause Mr. Collier had less injured him in disap- 
pointing him of the regiment, than he had done 



92 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

hi? Higp.tiess in making liim break his word 
• Then,' replied the Prince in an angry tone, ' J 
make you full reparation; for I bestow on you 
what is more valuable than a regiment when I give 
you your right arm !' The Captain subjoined, that 
since his Highness had the goodness to give him 
his liberty, he resolved to employ himself else- 
^Yhere, for he would not longer serve a Prince that 
had broken his word. 

" The Captain, having thus thrown up his com- 
mission, was preparing in haste for his voyage, 
when a messenger arrived from the Pririce, with 
two hundred guineas for the horse on which he had 
saved his life. The Captain sent the horse, but he 
ordered the gold to be distributed among the 
grooms of the Prince's stables. It is said, however, 
that his Highness had the genei-osity to write to 
the King and the Duke, recommending him as a 
fine gentleman and a brave officer, fit for any office, 
ci\41 or military."* 

* Memoirs of the Lord Visconmt of Dundee. London : 
17U. 



THE BURIAL- MAHCH OF DUNDEE. 9? 

On his arrival in Britain he was well received by 
the court, and immediately appointed to a high mi- 
litary command in Scotland. It would be beyond 
the scope of the present paper to enter minutely 
into the details of his service during the stormy 
period when Scotland was certainly misgoverned, 
and when there was little unity, but much disorder 
in the land. In whatever point of view we regard 
the history of those times, the aspect is a mournful 
one indeed. Church and State never was a popular 
cry in Scotland ; and the peculiar religious tenden- 
cies which had been exhibited by a large portion 
of the nation, at the time of the Reformation, 
rendered the return of tranquility hopeless, until 
the hierarchy was displaced, and a humbler form 
of church government, more suited to the feelings 
of the people, substituted in its stead. 

Three years after the accession of James VII., 
Claverhouse was raised to the peerage, by the title 
of Lord Viscount of Dundee. He was major- 
general and second in command of the royal 
forces, when the Prince of Orange landed ; and he 



94 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIBP.S. 

eamestly entreated King James to be allowed to 
march against him, offering to stake his head on 
the successful result of the eLterprise. There can 
be little doubt, from the great popularity of Lord 
Dundee with the army, that, had such Consent been 
given, William would have found more than a 
match in his old officer ; but the King seemed ab- 
solutely infatuated, and refused to allow a drop of 
blood to be shed in his quarrel, though the great 
bulk of the populati.m of England were clearly 
and enthusiastically in his favor. One of the most 
gifted of our modern poets, the Honorable George 
Sydney Smith, has beautifully illustrated this event. 

" Then out spake gallant Claverhouse, and his soul thrilled 

wild and high, 
And he showed the King his subjects, and he praved him 

not to fly. 
Oh never yet was captain so dauntless as Dundee — 
He has sworn to chase the Hollander hack to his 

Zuyder-Zee !" 

But though James quitted his kingdom, the 
stern loyalty of Dundpe was nothing moved. 
Alone and without escort he traversed England, 



THE BURIAL-MARCH OF DtJXDEE. 95 

and presented himself at the Convention of 
Estates then assembled at Edinburgh for the 
purpose of receiving the message from the Prince 
of Orange. The meeting vras a very strange one. 
Many of the nobility and former members of the 
Scottish Parliament absolutely declined attending 
it, — some on the ground that it was not a legal 
assembly, having been summoned by the Piince 
of Orange ; and others because, in such a total 
disruption of order, they judged it safest to abstain 
from taking any prominent part. This gave an 
immfense ascendency to the Revolution party, 
vpho further proceeded to strengthen their position 
b;y inviting to Edinburgh large bodies of the armed 
population of the west. After defending for several 
days the cause of his master, with as much elo- 
quence as vigor, Dundee, finding that the majority 
of the Convention were resolved to offer the crown 
of Scotland to the Prince, and having moreover 
received sure information that some of the wild 
fanatic Whigs, with Daniel Ker of Kersland at their 
head, had formed a plot for his assassination, quitted 



96 LAY'S OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

Edinburgh with about fifty horsemen, and, after b 
short interview — celebrated by Sir Walter Scott in 
one of his grandest ballads — with the Duke of Gor- 
don at the Castle rock, directed his steps towards 
the north. After a short stay at his house of Dud- 
dope, during which he received, by order of the 
Council, who were thoroughly alarmed at his 
absence, a summons through a Lyon-herald to return 
to Edinburgh under the pain of high treason, he 
passed into the Gordon country, where he was joined 
by the Earl of Dunfermline with a small party of 
about sixty horse. His retreat was timeous, for 
General Mackay, who commanded for the Prince of 
Orange, had despatched a strong force, with instruo- 
tions to make him prisoner. From this time, unti] 
the day of his death, he allowed himself no repose 
Imitating the example, and inheriting the enthusiasm 
of his great predecessor Montrose, he invoked the 
loyalty of the clans to assist him in the struggle foi 
legitimacy, — and he did not appeal to them in vain. 
His name was a spell to rouse the ardent spirits of 
*.he mountaineers; and not the Great Marquis him- 



THE BURIAL-MARCH OF DUNDEE. 97 

self, in the height of his renown, was more sincerely 
welcomed and more fondly loved than "Jan dhu 
nan Cath," — Dark John of the Battles, — the name 
by which Lord Dundee is still remembered in 
Highland song. In the mean time the Convention, 
terrified at their danger, and dreading a Highland 
inroad, had despatched Mackay, a military officer of 
great experience, with a considei-able body of troops, 
to quell the threatened insurrection. He was en- 
countered by Dundee, and compelled to evacuate 
the high country and fall back upon the Lowlands, 
where he subsequently received reinforcements, and 
again marched northward. The Highland host was 
assembled at Blair, though not in great force, when 
the new^s of Mackay's advance arrived ; and a coun- 
cil of the chiefs and officers was summoned, to 
determine whether it would be most advisable to 
fall back upon the glens and wild fastnesses of the 
Highlands, or to meet the enemy at once, though 
with a far inferior force. 

Most of the old officers, who had been trained in 

the foreign wars, were of the former opinion — 
5 



98 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

*• aliegiiig that it was neither prudent nor cautious to 
risk an engagement against an army of disciplined 
men, that exceeded theirs in number by more than 
a half." But both Glengarry and Locheill, to the 
great satisfaction of the general, maintained the 
contrary view, and argued that neither hunger nor 
fatigue were so likely to depress the Highlanders as 
a retreat when the enemy was in view. The account 
of the discussion is so interesting, and so characteris- 
tic of Dundee, that I shall take leave to quote its ter- 
mination in the words of Drummond of Balhaldy : — 
" An advice so hardy and resolute could not miss 
to please the generous Dundee. His looks seemed 
to heighten with an air of delight and satisfaction 
all the while Locheill was speaking. He told his 
council that they had heard his sentiments from the 
mouth of a person who had formed his judgment 
upon infallible proofs drawn from a long experience, 
and an intimate acquaintance with the persons and 
subject he spoke of ^ Not one in the company 
offering to contradict their general, it was unani- 
mously agreed to fight. 



THE BURIAL-MARCH OF DUNDEE. 99 

"When the news of this vigorous resolution 
spread through the array, nothing was heard but 
acclamations of jo V, which exceedingly pleased their 
gallant general ; but before the council broke up, 
Locheill begged to be heard for a few words. 'My 
Lord,' said he, ' I have just now declared, in presence 
of this honorable company, that I was resolved to 
give an implicit obedience to all your Lordship's 
commands; but I humbly beg leave, in name of 
these gentlemen, to give the word of command for 
this one time. It is the voice of your comicil, and 
their orders are that you do not engage personally. 
Your Lordship's business is to have an eye on all 
parts, and to issue out your commands as you shall 
think proper ; it is ours to execute them with promp- 
titude and courage. On your Lordship depends the 
fate, not only of this little brave army, but also of 
our king and country. If your Loi'dship deny us 
this reasonable demand, for my own part I declare, 
that neither I, nor any I am concerned in, shall 
draw a sword on this miportant occasion, whatever 
construction shall be put upon the matter.' 



lOO LAYS OB' THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

" Locheill was seconded in this by the whole 
council ; but Dundee begged leave to be heard in 
his turn. ' Gentlemen,' said he, ' as I am abso- 
lutely convinced, and have had repeated proofs, of 
your zeal for the King's service, and of your affec- 
tion to me as his general and your friend, so I am 
fully sensible that my engaging personally this day 
may be of some loss if I shall chance to be killed. 
But I beg leave of you, however, to allow me to 
give one shear darg (that is, one harvest-day's 
work) to the King, my master, that I may have an 
opportunity of convincing the brave clans that 1 
can hazard my life in that service as freely as the 
meanest of them. Ye know their temper, gentle- 
men ; and if they do not think 1 have personal 
courage enough, they will not esteem me hei-eafter, 
nor obey my commands with cheerfulness. Allow 
me this single favor, and I here promise, upon my 
hono)', never again to risk my person while T have 
that of commanding you.' 

"The council, finding him inflexible, broke up, 



THE BURIAL-MARCH OF DUNDEE. 101 

and the army marched directly towards the Pass oi 
Killiecrankie." 

Those who have visited that romantic spot need 
not be reminded of its peculiar features, for these, 
once seen, must dwell for ever in the memory. 
The lower part of the Pass is a stupendous moun- 
tain-chasm, scooped out by the waters of the 
Garry, which here descend in a succession of roaring 
cataracts and pools. The old road, which ran 
almost parallel to the river and close upon its edge, 
was extremely narrow, and wound its way beneath 
a wall of enormous crags, surmounted by a natural 
forest of birch, oak, and pine. An army cooped 
up in that gloomy ravine would have as Lttle 
chance of escape from the onset of an enterprising 
partisan corps, as had the Bavarian troops when 
attacked by the Tyrolese in the steep defiles of the 
Inn. General Mackay, however, had made his 
arrangements with consummate tact and skill, and 
had calculated his time so well, that he was enabled 
to clear the Pass before the Highlanders could reach 
it from the other side. Advancing upwards, the 



102 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

passage becomes gradually broader, until, just 
below the House of Urrard, there is a considerable 
width of meadow-land. It was here that Mackay 
took up his position, and arrayed his troops, on ob- 
serving that the heights above were occupied by the 
army of Dundee. 

The forces of the latter scarcely amounted to 
one-third of those of his antagonist, which were 
djawn up in line without any reserve. He was 
therefore compelled, in making his dispositions, to 
leave considerable gaps in his own line, w^hich gave 
Mackay a further advantage. The right of Dun- 
dee's army was formed of the M'Lean, Glengarry, 
and Jlanranald regiments, along with some Irish 
levies. In the centre was Dundee himself, at the 
head of a small and ill-equipped body of cavalry, 
composed of Lowland gentlemen and their fol- 
lowers, and about forty of his old troopers. The 
Camerons and Skyemen, under the command of 
Locheill and Sir Donald Macdonald of SI eat, were 
stationed on the left. During the time occu- 
pied by these dispositions,, a brisk cannonade was 



THE BUKiAL-MARCH OF DUNDEE^ 103 

opened by Mackay's artillery, which materially 
increased the impatience of the Highlanders to 
come to close quarters. At last the word was 
given to advance, and the whole line rushed for- 
ward with the terrific impetuosity pe^ruliar to a 
charge of the clans. They received the fire of the 
regulnr troops without flinching, reserved their 
own until they were close at hand, poured in a 
murderous volley, and then, throwing away their 
firelocks, attacked the enemy with the broadsword. 
The victory was almos.t instantaneous, but it 
was bought at a terrible price. Through some mis- 
take or misunderstanding, a portion of the cavalry, 
instead of following their general, who had chaj-ged 
directly for the guns, executed a manoeuvre which 
threw them into disorder; and when last seen in 
the battle, Dundee, accompanied only by the Ear] 
of Dunfermline and about sixteen gentlemen, was 
entering into the cloud of smoke, standing up in 
his stirrups, and waving to the others to come on. 
It was in this attitude that he appears to have 
received his death-wound. On returning from the 



/* 



104 LAYS OF THE iSCOTTISH CAVALIJ5KS. 

pursuit, the Highlanders found him dying on the 
field. 

It would be difficult to point out another instance 
in which the maintenance of a great cause depend- 
ed solely upon the life of a single man. Whilst 
Dundee survived, Scotland at least was not lost to 
the Stuarts, for, shortly befoi'e the battle, he had 
received assurance that the greater part of the 
organised troops in the north were devoted to his 
person, and ready to join him; and the victory 
of Killiecrankie would have been followed by a 
general rising of the royal gentlemen in the 
Lowlands. But with his fall the enterprise was 
over. 

I hope I shall not be accused of exaggerating the 
importance of this battle, which, according to the 
writer I have already quoted, was best proved by 
the consternation into which the opposite party were 
thrown at the first news of Mackay's defeat. " The 
Duke of Hamilton, commissioner for the parliament 
•which then sat at Edinburgh, and the rest of the 
ministry, were struck v ith such a panic, that some 



THE BURIAL-MARCH OF DUNDEE. 105 

of them were fOr retiring to England, others into 
the western shires of Scotland, where all the peo- 
ple, almost to a man, befriended them ; nor knew 
they whether to abandon the government, or to 
stay a few days mitil they saw what use my Lord 
Dundee would make of his victory. They knew 
the rapidity of his motions, and were convinced 
that he would allow them no time to deliberate. 
On this account it was debated, whether such of the 
nobility and gentry as were confined for adhering 
to their old master, should be immediately set at 
liberty or more closely shut up ; and though the 
last " was determined on, yet the greatest revolu- 
tionists among them made private and frequent 
visits to these prisoners, excusing what was past, 
from a fatal necessity of the times, which obliged 
them to give a seeming compliance, but protesting 
that they always wished well to King James, as 
they should soon have occasion to show when my 
Lord Dundee advanced." 

" The next morning affcei- the battle," says 

Drummond " the Highland army had more the 
5* 



106 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

air of tliG shattered remains of broken troops than 
of conquerors; for here it was literally true that 

"The vanqiushed triumphed, and the victors mourned.' 

The death of their brave general, and the loss of 
so many of their friends, were inexhaustible foun- 
tains of grief and sorrow. They closed the last 
scene of this mournful tragedy in obsequies of their 
lamented general, and of the other gentlemen who 
fell with him, and entered them in the church of 
Blair of Atholl with a real funeral solemnity, there 
not being present one single person who did not 
participate in the general affliction." 

I close this notice of a great soldier and devoted 
loyalist, by transcribing the beautiful epitaph com- 
posed by Dr. Pitcairn : — 

'* Ultime Scotoruin ! potuit, quo sospite solo, 

Libertas patrice salva fuisse tuas : 
Te moriente, novos accepit Scotia cives, 

Accepitque novos, te moriente, deos. 
Ilia nequit superesse tibi, tu nou potis illi, 

Ergo, Caledoniffi nomen inane, vale ! 
Tuque vale, gentis priscaj fortissiine dnctor, 

Ultime Scotorum, ac ultime Grame, vale !" 



THE BURIAL-MARCH 



DUNDEE 



SocND the fife, and cry the slogan — 

Let the pibroch shake the air 
With its wild triumphal music. 

Worthy of the freight we bear. 
Let the ancient hills of Scotland 

Hear once more the battJe-song 
Swell within their glens and valleys 

As the clansmen, march along! 



108 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

Never from the lieid of combat, 

Never from the deadly fray, 
Was a nobler trophy carried 

Than we bring with us to-day ; 
Never since the valiant Douglas 

On his dauntless bosom bore 
Good King Robert's heart — the priceless 

To our dear Redeemer's shore ! 
Lo ! we bring with us the hera— 

Lo ! we bring the conquering Graeme, 
Crowned as best beseems a victor 

From the altar of his fame ; 
Fresh and bleeding from the battle 

Whence his spirit took its flight, 
Midst the crashing charge of s(]^uadrous, 

And the thunder of the fight ! 
Strike, I say, the notes of triumph, 

As we march o'er moor and lea ! 
Is there any here will venture 

To bewail our dead Dundee ? 
Let the widows of the traitors 

Weep until then- eyes are diir ^ 



THE BURTAL-MARCII OF DUNDEE. 109 

Wail ye may full well for Scotland — 

Let none dare to mourn for him ! 
See ! above his glorious body 

Lies the royal banner's fold — 
See ! his valiant blood is mingled 

With its crimson and its gold. 
See how calm he looks and stately, 

Like a warrior on his shield, 
Waiting till the flush of morning 

Breaks along the battle-field ! 
See — Oh never more, my comrades. 

Shall we see that falcon eye 
Redden with its inward lightning, 

As the hour of fight drew nigh ! 
Never shall we hear the voice that, 

Clearer than the trumpet's call, 
Bade us strike for King and Comitryj 

Bade us win the field, or tall ! 



II. 



On the heights of Killiecrankie 
Yester-mora our ai'my lay : 



110 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALTEK6. 

Slowly rose the mist in columns 

From the river's broken way ; 
Hoarsely roared the swollen torrent, 

And the Pass was wrapped in gloora, 
When the clansmen rose together 

From their lair amidst the broom. 
Then we belted on our tartans. 

And our bonnets down we drew, 
And we felt our broadswords' edges, 

And we proved them to be true ; 
And w^e prayed the prayer of soldiers, 

And we cried the gathering-cry. 
And we clasped the hands of kinsmen, 

And we swore to do or die! 
Then our leader rode before us 

On his war-horse black as night — 
Well the Cameronian rebels 

Knew that charger in the fight ! — 
And a cry of exultation 

From the bearded warriors lose ; 
For we loved the house of Clave r'se, 

And we thought of good Montrose. 



THE BUKIAL-MA.RCH OF DUNDEE. Ill 

But he raised his hand for silence — 

" Soldiers ! I have sworn a vow : 
Ere the evening star shall glisten 

On Schehallion's lofty brow, 
Either we shall rest in triumph, 

Or another of the Grsemes 
Shall have died in battle-harness 

For his Country and King James ! 
Think upon the Royal Martyr — 

Think of what his race endure — 
Think on him whom butchers murder'd 

On the field of Magus Muir : — 
By his sacred blood I charge ye, 

By the ruined hearth and shrine — 
By the blighted hopes of Scotland, 

By your injuries and mine — 
Strike this day as if the anvil 

Lay beneath your blows the while. 
Be they Covenanting traitors, 

Or the brood of false Acgyle ! 
Strike ! and drive the trembling rebels 

Backwards o'er the stormy Forth ; 



112 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

Let them tell their pale Convention 

How they fared withhi the North. 
Let them tell that Highland honor 

Is not to be bought nor sold, 
That we scorn their prince's anger 

As we loathe his foreign gold. 
Strike ! and when the fight is over, 

If jou look in vain for me, 
Where the dead are lying thickest 

Search for him that was Dundee !" 

III. 

Loudly then the hills re-echoed 

With our answer to his call, 
But a deeper echo sounded 

In the bosoms of us all. 
For the lands of wide Breadalbane, 

Not a man who heard him speak 
Would that day have left the battle. 

Burning eye. and flushing cheek 
Told the clansmen's fierce emotion, 

And they harder drew their breath*, 



THE BURIAL-MARCH OF DUN.OEE. 113 

For their souls were strong within them, 

Stronger than the grasp of death. 
Soon we heard a challenge-trumpet 

Sounding in the Pass below, 
And the distant tramp of horses, 

And the voices of the foe ; 
Down we ci-ouched amid the bracken, 

Til] the Lowland ranks drew neai". 
Panting like the hounds in summer, 

When they scent the stately deer. 
From the dark defile emerging. 

Next we saw the squadrons come, 
Leslie's foot and Leven's troopers 

Marching to the tuck of drum : 
Through the scattered wood of birches, 

O'er the broken ground and heath, 
"Wound the long battalion slowly, 

Till they gained the field heneatn ; 
Then we bounded from our covert. — 

Judge how looked the Saxons then, 
When they saw the rugged mountain 

Start to life with armed men ! 



114 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

Like a tempest down the ridges 

Swept the hurricane of steel. 
Rose the slogan of Macdonald — 

Flashed the broadsword of Locheill ! 
Vainly sped the withering volley 

'Mongst the foremost of our band — 
On we poured until we mtt them, 

Foot to foot, and hand to hand. 
Horse and man went down like drift-wood 

When the floods are black at Yule, 
A.nd their carcasses are whirling 

In the Garry's deepest pool. 
Horse and man went down before us — 

Living foe there tarried none 
On the field of Killiecrankie, 

When tliat stubborn fight was done ! 



And the evening star was shining 
On Schehallion's distant head, 

When we wiped our bloody broadswords. 
And returned to count the dead. 



« THE BURIAL-MAKCH OF DUNDEE. 115 

There we found him gashed and gory. 

Stretched upon the cumbered plain, 
'As he told us where to seek him, 

In the thickest of the slain. 
And a smile was on his visage, 

For within his dyingj ear 
Pealed the joyful note of triumph, 

And the clansmen's clamorous cheer : 
So, amidst the battle's thunder. 

Shot, and steel, and scorching flame- 
In the glory of his manhood 

Passed the spirit of the Grseme ! 

V. 

Open wide the vaults of Athol, 
Where the bones of heroes rest— r- 

Open wide the hallowed portals 
To receive another guest ! 

Last of Scots, and last of freemen- 
Last of all that dauntless race 

Who would rather die unsullied 
Than outlive the land's disgrace ! 



lit) LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

O thou lion-hearted warrior ! 

Reck not of the after-time : 
Honor may be deemed dishonor. 

Loyalty be called a crime. 
Sleep in peace with kindred ashes 

Of the noble and the true, 
Hands that never tailed their country, 

Hearts that never baseness knew. 
Sleep ! — and till the latest trumpet 

Wakes the dead from earth and sea. 
Scotiand shall not boast a braver 

Chieftain than our own Dundee I 



THE WIDOW 



OF 



GLENCOE 



The Massacre of Glencoe is an event which 
neither can nor ought to be forgotten. It was a 
deed of the worst treason and cruelty — a barbarous 
infraction of all laws, human and divine ; and it 
exhibits in their foulest perfidy the true characters 
of the authors and abettors of the Revolution. 

After the battle of Killiecrankie the cause of the 
•Scottish royalists declined, rather from the want of 
a competent leader than from any disinclination on 



118 L\YS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

the part of a large section of the nobility and gentry 
to indicate the right of King James. No person 
of adequate talents or authority was found to supply 
the place of the great and gallant Lord Dundee: 
for General Cannon, who succeeded in command, 
was not only deficient in military skill, but did not 
possess the confidence, nor understand tlie character 
of the Highland chiets, who, with their clansmen, 
constituted by far the most important section of 
the army. Accordingly no enterprise of any impor- 
tance was attempted ; and th.e disastrous issue of 
the battle of the Boyne led to a negotiation which 
terminated in the entire disbanding of the i-oyal 
forces. By this treaty, which was expressly sanc- 
tioned by William of Orange, a full and unreserved 
indemnity and pardon was granted to all of the 
Highlanders who had taken arms, with a proviso 
that they should first subscribe the oath of allegiance 
to William and Mary, before the 1st of January, 
1692, in -presence of the Lords of the Scottish 
Council, "or of the Sheriffs or their deputies of thf* 
respective shires wherein they lived." The letter of 



THE WIDOW OF GLENCOE. 119 

William addressed to the Privy Council, and order- 
ing proclamation to be made to the above effect, 
contained also the following significant passage : — 
" That ye communicate our pleasure to the Gover- 
nor of Inverlochy, and othei commanders, that 
they be exact and diligent in their several posts ; 
but that they show no more zeal against the High- 
landers after their submission, than they have ever 
done formerly when these ivere in open rebellion.^'* 

This enigmatical sentence, which in reality was 
intended, as the sequel will show, to be interpreted 
in the most cruel manner, appears to have caused 
some perplexity in the Council, as that body deemed 
it necessary to apply for more distinct and specific 
instructions, which, however, were not then issued. 
It had been especially stipulated by the chiefs, as an 
indispensable preliminary to their treaty, that they 
should have leave to communicate with King James, 
then residing at St. Germains, for the purpose of 
obtaining his permission and wan-ant previous to 
submitting themselves to the existing government 
That article had been sanctioned by William before 



120 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISU CAVALIERS. 

the proi^Jamation was issued, and *a special messen. 
ger was dispatched to France for that purpose. 

In the mean time, troops were gradually and cau- 
tiously advanced to the confines of the Highlands, 
and, in some instances, actually quartered on the 
inhabitants. The condition of the country was per 
fectly tranquil. No disturbances whatever occurred 
in the north or west of Scotland ; Locheill and the 
other chiefs were awaiting the communication from 
St. Germains, and held themselves bound in honor 
to remain inactive ; whilst the remainder of the 
royalist forces (for whom separate terms had been 
made) were left unmolested at Dunkeld. 

But rumors, which are too clearly traceable to 
the emissaries of the new government, asserting the 
preparation made for an immediate landing of King 
James at the head of a large body of the French, 
were industriously circulated, and by many were 
implicitly believed. The infamous policy which 
dictated such a course is now apparent. The term 
of the amnesty or truce granted by. the proclamation 
expired with the year 1691, and all who had not 



THE WIDOW OF GLENCOE. 121 

taken the oath of allegiance before that term, were 
to be proceeded against with the utmost severity. 
The proclamation was issued upon the 29th of Au- 
gust : consequently only four months were allowed 
for the complete submission of the Highlands. 

Not one of the chiefs subscribed until the man- 
date from King James arrived. That, document, 
which is dated from St. Germains on the 12th of 
December,^ 1691, reached Dunk elk eleven days af- 
terwards, and, consequentlv^, bat a very short time 
before the indemnity expired. The bearer. Major 
Menzies, was so fatigued that he could proceed no 
farther on his journey, but forwarded the mandate 
by an express to the commander of the royal 
forces, who was then at Glengarry. It was there- 
fore impossible that the document could be circu- 
lated through the Highlands within the prescribed 
period. Locheill, says Drummond of Balhaldy, 
did not receive his copy till about thirtv hours be- 
fore the time was out, and appeared before the 
sheriff at Inverara, where he took the oaths upon 

the very day on which the indemnity expired. 
6 



122 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

That a general massacre throughout the High- 
lands was contemplated by the whig government is 
a fact established by overwhelming evidence. In 
the course of the subsequent investigation before 
the Scots Parliament, letters were produced from 
Sir John Dairy mple, then Master of Stair, one of 
the secretaries of state in attendance upon the court, 
which too clearly indicate the intentions of William 
In one of these, dated 1st December, 1694 — amonth^ 
be it observed, before the amnesty expired — and 
addressed to Lieutenant-Colonel Hamilton, there 
are the following words : — "The winter is the only 
season in which we are sure the Highlanders cannot 
escape us, nor carry their wives, bairns^ and cattle 
to t]ie mountains." And in another letter, written 
only two days afterwards, he says, — " It is the only 
time that they cannot escape you, for human con- 
stitution cannot endure to be long out of houses. 
This is the projnr season to maule them in the cold 
long mr/hts.^'' And in January thereafter, he inform- 
ed Sir Thomas Livingston that the design was " to 
destroy entirely the country of Lochaber, Locheill's 



THE WIDOW OF GLENCOE. 123 

lands, Keppoch's, Glengarry's, Appin, and Glencoe. 
" I assure you," he continues, "' your power shall be 
full enough, and I hope the soldiers ivilt not trouble 
the Government with prisoners.'''' 

Locheill was more fortunate than others of his 
friends and neigliboi*s. According to Drummond, 
— " Major Menzies, who, upon his arrival, had 
observed the whole forces of the kingdom ready 
to invade the Highlands, as he wrote to General 
Buchan, foreseeing the unhappy consequences, not 
only begged that general to send expresses to all 
parts with orders immediately to submit, but also 
wrote to Sir Thomas Livingston, praying him to 
supplicate the Council for a prorogation of the time, 
in regard that he was so excessively fatigued, that 
he was obliged to stop some days to repose a little ; 
and that though he should send expresses, yet it 
was impossible they could reach the distant parts in 
such time as to allow the several persons concerned 
the benefit of the indemnity within the space limit- 
ed ; besides, that some persons having put the 
Highlanders in a bad temper, he was confident to 



124: LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

persuade them to submit, if a further time were 
allowed. Sir Thomas presented this letter to the 
Council on the 5th of January, 1692, but they re- 
fused to give any answer, and ordered him to 
transmit the same to Court." 

The reply of William of Orange was a letter, 
countersigned by IJalrymple, in which, upon the 
recital that " several of the chieftains and many of 
their clans have not taken the benefit of our 
gracious indemnity," he gave orders for a general 
massacre. "To that end, we have given Sir Tho- 
mas Livingston orders to employ our troops (which 
we have already conveniently posted") to cut off 
these obstinate rebels by ad manner of hostility; and 
we do require you to give him your assistance and 
concurrence in all other things that may conduce to 
that service ; and because these rebels, to avoid our 
forces, may draw themselves, their families^ goods, 
or cattle, to luik or be concealed among their neigh- 
bors : therefore we require and authorize you to 
emit a proclamation, to be published at the market- 
crosses of these or the adjacent shires where the 



IHE WIDOW OF GLEXCOE. 125 

rebels reside, discharging, upon the highest penalties 
the law allows, any reset, correspondence, or inter- 
communing with these rebels." This monstrous 
mandate, which was in fact the death-warrant of 
many thousand innocent people, no distinction being 
made of age or sex, would, in all linnian probability, 
have been put into execution, but for the remon- 
strance of one liighmlntU'd nobleman. Lord Cai^ 
marthen, afterwards Duke of Leeds, accidentally 
became aware of the proposed massacre, and pCT 
sonally remonstrated with the monarch against a 
measure which he denounced as at once cruel and 
impolitic. After much discussion, AVilliam, influ- 
enced rather by an apprehension that so savage 
and sweeping an act might prove fatal to his new 
authority, than by any compunction or impulse of 
humanity, agreed to recall the general order, and to 
limit himself, in the first instance, to a sinofle deed 
of butchery, by way of testing the temper of the 
nation. Some difficulty seems to have arisen in the 
selection of the fittest victim. Both Keppoch and 
Glencoe were named, but the personal rancor of 



126 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

Secretary Dalryniple decided the doom of the 
latter. The secretary wrote thus: — "Argyle tells 
me that Glencoe hath not taken the oath, at which 
I rejoice. It is a great Mork of charity to be exact 
in rooting out that damnable set." The final m- 
structions regarding Glencoe, which were issued on 
16th January, 1692, are as follows : — 

" TViLiJAM E. — An for M'hni of Glencoe and that tribe, if 
they can be well distinguished fron) the rest of the Higliland- 
OTs, it will be proi^er for public justice to extirpate tliat set of 
;h:ev-e3. W. R." 

This letter is remarkable as being signed and 
countersigned by William alone, contrary to the 
usual practice. The secretary was no doubt 
desirous to screen himself from after responsibility, 
and was further aware that the royal signature 
would insure a rigorous execution of the sentence. 

Macdonald, or, as he was more commonly design- 
ed, Mian of Glencoe, was the head of a considera- 
ble sept or branch of the great Qan-Coila, and was 
lineally descended from the ancient Lords of the 
Isles, and from the royal family of Scotland — the 



THE WIDOW OF GLENCOE. 127 

common ancestor of the Macdonalds having espoused 
a daughter of Robert H. He was, according to a 
contemporary testimony, " a person of great integ- 
rity, honor, good nature, and courage ; and his 
loyalty to his old master. King James, was such, 
that he continued in arms from Dundee's first 
appearing in the Highlands, till the fatal treaty that 
brought on his ruin." In common with the other 
chiefs, he had omitted taking the benefit of the 
indemnity until he received the sanction of King 
James: but the copy of that document which was 
forwarded to him, unfortunately arrived too late. 
The weather was so excessively stormy at the time, 
that there was no possibility of penetrating from 
Glencoe to Inverara, the place where the sheriff 
resided, before the expiry of the stated period ; and 
M'lan accordingly adopted the only practicable 
mode of signifying his submission, by making his 
way with great difficulty to Fort^ William, then 
called Inverlochy, and tendering his signature to 
the military Governor there, That officer was not 
authorized to receive it, but at the earnest entreat} 



128 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALTERS. 

of the chief, he gave him a certificate of his appear- 
ance and tender ; and on New- Year's day 1692, 
M'lan reached Inverara. where he produced that 
paper as evidence of his intentions, and prevailed 
upon the sheriff, Sir James Campbell of Ardkinglass, 
to administer the oaths required. After that cere- 
mony, which was immediately intimated to the 
Privy Council, had been performed, the unfortunate 
gentleman returned home, in the full conviction 
that he had thereby made peace with Government 
for himself and for his clan. But his doom was 
already sealed^ 

A company of the Earl of Argyle's regiment had 
been previously quartered at Glencoe. These men, 
though Campbells, and hereditarily obnoxious to 
the Macdonalds, Camerons, and other of the loyal 
clans, were yet countrymen, and were kindly and 
hospitably received. Their captain, Robert Camp- 
bell of Glenlyon, was connected with the family of 
Glencoe through the marriage of a niece, and was 
resident under the roof of the chief And yet this 
was the very troop selected for the horiid service 



THE WIDOW OF GLEXCOE. 129 

Special instructions ^vere sent to the major of the 
regiment, one Duncanson, then quartered at Balla- 
chulish — a morose, brutal, and savage man — who 
accordingly wrote to Campbell of Glenlyon in the 
following terms : — 

BAiLACHOLis, 12 February^ 1692. 
" SIE,— You are hereby ordered to fall upon the rebels, the 
M'Donalds of Glencoe, and putt all to the sword under seventy. 
You are to have special care that the old fox and his sons doe 
upon no account escape your hands. You are to secure 
all the avenues, that no man escape. This you are to put in 
execution att five o'clock in the morning precisely, and by that 
time, or ver\' shortly after it, I'll strive to be att you with a 
stronger party. If I doe not come to you att five, yoii are not 
to tarry for me, but to fall on. This is by the king's speciall 
command, for the good and safety of the country, that theso 
miscreants be cutt off root and branch. See that this be putt 
in execution without' feud or favour, else you may expect to be 
treated as not true to the king's government, nor a man fitt to 
carry a commission in the king's service. Expecting you will 
not faill in the fulfilling hereof as you love yourself, I subscribe 
these with my hand. 

" KOBERT DCNC.VNSON. 

" For their Majesties' service. 
*' To Captain Robert Campbell of Gleidyon?'' 

This order was but too literally obeyed. At the 

appointed hour, when the whole inhabitants of the 
6* 



130 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

glen were asleep, the work of murder began. M'lan 
was one of the first who fell. Drumniond's narra- 
tive fills up the remamder of the dreadful story. 

"They then served all within the family in the 
same manner, without distinction of age or person. 
In a word — for the horror of that execrable butchery 
must give pain to the reader — they left none alive 
but a young child, who, being frightened with the 
noise of the guns, and the dismal shrieks and cries 
of its dying parents, whom they were a-murdering, 
got hold of Captain Campbell's knees, and wrapt 
itself withhi his cloak ; by which, chancing to move 
compassion, the captain inclined to have saved it, 
but one Drummond, an officer, arriving about the 
break of day with more troops, commanded it to 
be shot by a rile of musqueteers. Nothing could 
be more shocking and horrible than the prospect of 
these houses bestrewed with mangled bodies of the 
dead, covered with blood, and resounding with the 
groans of wretches in the last agonies of life. 

" Two sons of Glencoe's were the only persons 
that escaped in that quarter of the country ; for, 



THE WIDOW OF GLENCOE. 131 

growing jealous of some ill designs from the beha- 
vior of the soldiers, they stole from their beds a few 
minutes before the tragedy began, and, chancing to 
overhear two of them discoursing plainly of the 
matter, they endeavored to have advertised their 
father, but, finding that impracticable, they ran to 
the other end of the country and alarmed the inhabi- 
tants. There was another accident that contributed 
much to their safety ; for the night was so exces- 
sively stormy and tempestuous, that four hundred 
soldiers, who were appointed to murder these 
people, were stopped in their mai-ch from Inver- 
lochy, and could not get up till they had time to 
save themst^lvcs. 'I'o cover the deformity of so 
dreadful a sight, the soldiers burned all the houses 
to the ground, after having rifled them, carried away 
nine hundred cows, two hundred horses, numbei'less 
herds of sheep and goats, and everything else that 
belonged to these miserable people. Lamentable 
was the ease of the women and children that 
escaped the butchery : the mountains were covered 
with a deep snow, the rivers impassable, storm and 



132 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

tempest filled the air, and added to the horrors and 
darkness of the night, and there were no houses to 
shelter them withm many miles."* 

Such was the awful massacre of Glencoe. an 
event which has left an indelible and execrable 
stain upon the memory of William of Orange. 
The records of Indian warfare can hardly afford a 
paiallel instance of atrocity ; and this deed, coupled 
with his deliberate treachery in the Darien scheme, 
whereby Scotland w^as for a time absolutely ruined, 
is sufficient to account for the little estimation in 
which the name of the " great Whig deliverer " is 
still regarded in the valleys of the North. 

* Memoirs of Sir Ewen Cameron of LocJ.eiU. 



THE WIDO^V 



GLENCOE. 



Do not lift him from the brackeii, 

Leave him lying where he fell — 
Better bier ye cannot fashion : 

None beseems him half so well 
As the hare and broken heather, 

And the hard and trampled sod. 
Whence his angry soul ascended 

To the judgment-seat of God ! 



134 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

Winding-slieet we cannot give him — 

Seek no mantle for the dead, 
Save the cold and spotless covering 

Showered from heaven upon his head. 
Leave his broadsword as we found it, 

Bent 8' d broken with the blow, 
"Which, before he died, avenged him 

On the foremost of the foe. 
Leave, the blood upon his bosom — 

Wash not off that sacred stain ; 
Let it stiffen on the tartan, 

Let his wounds unclosed remain, 
Till the day when he shall show them 

At the throne of God on high. 
When the murderer and the murdered 

Meet before their Judge's eye ! 

ii. 

Nay — ye shall not weep, my children ! 

Leave it to the faint and weak ; 
Sobs are but a woman's weapon — 

Tears befit a maiden's cheek. 



THE WIDCIW OF OLENUOJfi. 135 

W 3e-p uot. children of Macdonald ! 

Weep not thou, his orphan heir — 
Not in shame, but stainless honor, 

Lies thy slaughtered father there. 
Weep not — but when years are over. 

And thine arm is strong and sure. 
And thy foot is >vv\i't and steady 

On the mountain and the muir — 
Let thy heart be hard as iron, 

And thy wrath as fierce as fire. 
Till the houi when vengeance cometh 

For the race that slew thy sire ! 
Till in deep and dark Glenlyon 

Rise a louder shriek of wo, 
Than at midnight from their eyrie. 

Scared the eagles of Glencoe : 
Louder than the screams that mingled 

With the howling of the blast. 
When the murderer's steel was clashing, 

And the tires were rising fast ; 
When thy noble father bounded 

To the rescue of his men, 



136 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

And the slogan of our kindred 

Pealed throughout the startled glen ! 
When the herd of frantic women 

Stumbled through the midnight snow, 
With their fathers' houses blazing, 

And their dearest dead below ! 
Oh, the horror of the tempest, 

As the flashing drift was blown, 
Crimsoned with the conflagration, 

And the roofs went thundering down * 
Oh, the prayers — the prayers and curse?! 

That together winged their flight 
From the maddened hearts of many 

Through that long and woful night ' 
Till the fires began to dwindle, 

And the shots grew faint and few, 
And we heard the foeman's challenge 

Only in a far hilloo : 
Till the silence once more settled 

O'er the gorges of the glen. 
Broken only by the Cona 

Plunging through its naked den. 



THE WIDOW OF GLENC'OE. 137 

Slowly from the mountain-summit 

Was the drifting veil withdrawn, 
And the ghastly valley glimmered 

In the gray December dawn. 
Better had the morning never 

Dawned upon our dark despair ! 
Black amidst the common whiteness 

Rose the spectral rums there : 
But the sight of these was nothing 

More than wrings the wild-dove's breast, 
When she searches for her offspring 

Round the relics of her nest. 
For in many a spot the tartan 

Peered above the wintry heap, 
Marking where a dead Macdonald 

Lay within his frozen sleep. 
Tremblingly we scooped the covering 

From each kindred victim's head, 
And the living lips were burning 

On the cold ones of the dead. 
And I left them with their dearest — 

Dearest charge had every one — 



138 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

Left the maiden with her lover, 

Left the mother with her son. 
I alone of all was mateless — 

Far more wretched I than they, 
For the snow would not discover 

Where my lord and husband lay, 
But 1 wandered up the valley, 

Till I found him lying low, 
"With the gash upon his bosom 

And the frown upon his brow — 
Till 1 found him lying murdered. 

Where he wooed me long ago ! 



Woman's weakness shall not shame mei — 

Why should I have tears to shed 1 
Could T rain them down like water. 

O my hero ! on thy head — 
Could the cry of lamentation 

Wake thee from thy silent sleep, 
Could it set thy heart a-throbbing, 

It we^-e mine to wail and weep ! 



THE WIDOW OF GLENCOE. 15^ 

But I will not waste my sorrow, 

Lest the Campbell women say 
That the daughters of Clanranald 

Are as weak and frail as they, 
I had wept thee hadst thou fallen, 

Like our fathers, on thy shield, 
When a host of English foemen 

Camped upon a Scottish field — 
I had mourned thee, hadst thou perisned 

With the foremost of his name. 
When the valiant and the noble 

Died around the dauntless Graeme ! 
But I will not wrong thee, husband ! 

With my unavailing cries, 
Whilst thy cold and mangled body 

Stricken by the traitor lies ; 
Whilst he counts the gold and glory 

That this hideous night has won, 
And his heart is big with triumph 

At the murder he has done. 
Other eyes than mine shall glisten, 

Other hearts be rent in twain, 



140 LAYS OF THE BCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

Ere the heathbells on thv hillock 

Wither in the autumn rain. 
Then I'll see thee where thou sleepest, 

And ril veil my weary head, 
Praying for a place beside thee, 

Dearer than my bridal- bed : 
And I'll give thee tears, my husband 

If the tears remain to me, 
When the widows of the foeman 

Cry tne coronach for thee ! 



THE ISLAND 



Off 



THE SCOTS, 



In consequeuce of a capitulation with Govern- 
ment, the regular troops who had served under Lord 
Dundee were conveyed to France ; and, immedi- 
ately upon their landhig, the officers and others had 
their rank confirmed according to the tenor of the 
commissions and characters which they bore in 
Scotland. They were distributed throughout the 
different garrisons in the north of France, and 
though nominally in the service of King James, 



142 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERto. 

derived their whole means of subsistence from the 
bomity,of the French monarch. So long as it 
appeared probable that another descent was medi 
tated, these gentlemen, who were almost without 
>..vcc| tion men of considerable family, assented to 
this arrangement ; but the destruction of the French 
fleet under Admiral To\rvil]e, off La Hogue, led 
to a material change in their views. After that 
naval engagement- it became obvicr.s that the cause 
of the fugitive king was in the mean time despe- 
rate, and the Scottish officers, with no less gallantry 
than honor, volunteered a sacrifice which, so far as 
I know, has hardly been equalled. 

The old and interesting pamphlet written by one 
of the corps,* from which 1 have extracted most of 
the following details, but which is seldom perused 
except by the antiquary, states that, — ^'the Scottish 
officers considering that, by the loss of the French 
fleet, King James's restoration would be retarded 
for some time, and that they were burdensome lo 

"^ Ar. account of Dundee's Officers after they went lo Fravc^, 
By an Ofiicer of the ai"my. London : 1714. 



THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS. 143 

the King of France, being entertained in gari'isons 
on whole pay, without doing duty, when he had 
almost all Europe in confederacy against him ; 
therefore humbly entreated King James to have 
them reduced into a company of private sentinels, 
and chose officers amongst themselves to command 
them ; assuring his Majesty that they would serve 
in the meanest circumstances, and undergo the 
greatest hardships and fatigues, that reason could 
imagine or misfortunes inflict, until it pleased God 
to restore him. King James commended their 
generosity and loyalty, but disapproved of what 
they proposed, and told them it was impossible that 
gentlemen, who had served in so honorable posts 
as formerly they. had enjoyed, and lived in so great 
plenty and ease, could ever undergo the fatigue and 
hardships of private sentinels' duty. Again, that 
his own first command was a company of officers, 
whereof several died ; others, wearied with fatigue. 
drew their discharges ; till at last it dwindled into 
nothing, and he got no reputation by the command : 
therefore he desired them to insist no more on that 



144 LAYS OF IHE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

project. The officers (notwithstanding his Majesty's 
desire to the contrary) made several interests at 
court, and harassed him so much, that at last he 
condescended," and appointed those who were to 
command them. 

Shortly afterwards the new corps was reviewed 
for the first and last time by the inifortunate James 
in the gardens of Saint Germains, and the tears are 
said to have gushed from his eyes at the sight of 
so many brave men, reduced, through their disin- 
terested and persevering loyalty, to so very humble 
a condition. " Gentlemen," said he, " my own mis- 
fortunes are not so nigh my heart as yours. It 
grieves me beyond what I can express, to see so 
many brave and worthy gentlemen, who had once 
the prospect of being the chief officers in my army, 
reduced to the stations of private sentinels. No- 
thing but your loyalty, and that of a few of my 
subjects in Britain, who are forced from their alle- 
giance by the Prince of Orange, and who, I know, 
will be ready on all occasions to serve me and my 
distressed family, could make me willing to live. 



THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS. 145 

The sense of what all of you have done and under- 
gone for your loyalty, hath made so deep an impres- 
sion upon my heart, that, if it ever please God to 
restore me, it is impossible I can be forgetful of your 
services and sufferings. Neither can there be any 
posts in the armies of my dominions, but what you 
have just pretensions to. As for my son. your Prince. 
he is of your own blood, a child capable of any im- 
pression, and, as his education will be from you, it is 
not supposable that he can forget your merits. At 
your own desires, you are now going a long march 
far distant from me. Fear God and love one another. 
Write your wants particularly to me, and depend 
upon it always to find me your parent and King." 
The scene bore a strong resemblance to one which 
many years afterwards occurred at Fontainebleau. 
The company listened to his words with deep emo- 
tion, gathered round him, as if half repentant of their 
own desire to go ; and so parted, for ever on this 
earth, the dethroned monarch and his exiled subjects. 
The number of this company of officers was 

about one hundred and twenty ; their destination 
7 



146 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

was Perpignan in Roiisillon, close upon the fi*ontier 
of Spain, where they were to join the army under 
the coi^-imand of the Mareschal de Noailles. Their 
power of endurance, though often most severely 
tested in an unwholesome climate, seems to have 
been no less remarkable than their gallantry, which 
upon many occasions called forth the warm acknow- 
ledgment of the French commanders. " Le gentil- 
homme^'' said one of the generals, in acknowledg- 
ment of their readiness at a peculiarly critical 
moment, " e8t toujours gentilhomme^ et se montre 
toiijours tel dans besoiii et dans le danger'''' — a eulogy 
as applicable to them as it was in latter days to 
La Tour d'Auvergne, styled the first grenadier of 
France. At Perpignan they were joined by tw^o 
other Scottish companies, and the three seem to have 
continued to serve together for several campaigns. 

As a proof of the estimation in which they were 
held, I shall merely extract a short account of the 
taking of Rosas in Catalonia, before referring to the 
exploit which forms the subject of the following bal- 
Uid. " On the 27th of May, the company of officers, 



THE libLAND OF THE SCOTS. 147 

and othei- Scottish companies, were joined by two 
companies of Irish, to make up a battalion in order 
to mount the trenches ; and the major part of the 
officers listed themselves in the company of grena- 
diers, under the command of the brave Major 
Rutherford, who, on his way to the trenches, in sight 
of Mareschal de Noailles and his court, marched 
with his company on the side of the trench, which 
exposed him to the fire of a bastion, where there 
were two culverins and several other guns planted ; 
likewise to the fire of two curtins lined with small 
shot. Colonel Brown, following with the battalion, 
was obliged, in honor, to march the same way 
Major Rutherford had done ; the danger whereof the 
Mareschal immediately perceiving, ordered one of 
his aides-de-camp to command Rutherford to march 
under cover of the trench, which he did ; and if he 
had but delayed six minutes, the grenadiers and bat- 
talion had been cut to pieces. Rutherford, with his 
grenadiers, marched to a trench near the town, and 
the battalion to a trench on the rear and flank of the 
grenadiers, who fired so incessantly on the besieged, 



148 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALTFRS. 

that they thought (the breach being practicable) 
they were going to make their attacks, immediately 
beat a chamade, and were willing to give up the 
town upon reasonable terms : but the Mareschal's 
demands were so exorbitant, that the Governor 
could not agree to them. Then firing began on both 
sides to be very hot ; and they in the town, seeing 
how the grenadiers lay, killed eight of them. When 
the Governor surrendered the town, he inquired of 
the Mareschal what coimtrymen these grenadiers 
were ; and assured him it was on their account he 
delivered up the town, because they fired so hotly, 
that he believed they were resolved to attack the 
breach. He answered, smiling, ' Ces sont mes enfans 
— They are my children.' Again ; ' they are the King 
of Great Bjitain's Scottish officers, who, to show their 
willingness to share of his miseries, have reduced 
themselves to the carrying of arms, and chosen to 
serve under my command.' The next day, when the 
Mareschal rode along the front of the camp, he halted 
at the company of the officer's piquet, and they all 
surrounded him. Then, with his hat in his hand, he 



THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS. .149 

thankftd them for their good services in the trenches, 
and freely acknowledged it was their conduct and 
courage which compelled the Governor to give up the 
town ; and assured them he would acquaint his master, 
with the same, which he did ; for when his son arrived 
with the news at Versailles, the King, having read the 
letter, immediately took coach to St. Germains, and 
when he had shown King James the letter, he thanlvcd 
him for the services his subjects had done in taking 
Rosas in Catalonia ; who, with concern, replied, they 
were the stock of his British officers, and that he was 
soiry he could not make better provision for them." 

And a miserable provision it was ! They were 
gradually compelled to part with every remnant of 
the property which they had secured from the ruins 
of their fortunes ; so that when they arrived, after 
various adventures, at Scelestat, in Alsace, they were 
literally without the common means of subsistence. 
Famine and the sword had by this time thinned 
their ranks, but had not diminished their spirit, as the 
following narrativeof their last exploit will show: — 

"In December, 1697, General Stirk, who com- 



150 LAYS Ub THE SCOTTISH CAVALIKKs. 

maHdedfor the Germans, appeared with 16,000 men 
on the other side of the Rhine, which obliged the 
Marquis de Sell to draw out all the garrisons in 
^Isace, who made up about 4000 men ; and he en- 
camped on the other side of the Rhine, over against 
General Stirk, to prevent his passing the Rhine and 
Ciirrying a bridge over into an island in the middle 
of it, which the French foresaw would be of great 
prejudice to them. For the enemy's guns, placed 
on that island, would extremely gall their camp, 
which they could not hinder for the deepness of the 
water and their wanting of boats — for which the 
Marquis quickly sent ; but arriving too late, the Ger- 
mans had carried a bridge over into the island, where 
they had posted above five hundred men. who, by 
'order of their engineers, intrenched themselves : 
which the company of officers perceiving, who always 
grasped after honor, and scorned all thoughts of 
danger, resolved to wade the river, and attack the 
Germans in the island ; and for that effect, desired 
Captaiii John Foster, who then commanded them, 
to beg of the Marquis that they might have liberty? 



THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS. 151 

to attack the Germans in the island ; who told Cap- 
tain Foster, when the boats came up, they should be 
the first that attacked. Foster courteously thanked 
the Marquis, and told him they would wade into the 
island, who shrunk up his shoidders, prayed God to 
blesfl them, and desired them to do what they 
pleased." Whereupon the officers, with the other two 
Scottish companies, made themselves ready; and, 
having secured their arms round their necks, waded 
into the river hand-in-hand, " according to the High- 
land fashion," with the water as high as their breasts ; 
and, having crossed the heavy stream, fell upon the 
Germans in their intrenchment. These were pre- 
sently thrown into confusion, and retreated, break- 
ing down their own bridges, whilst many of them 
were drowned. This movement having been made 
in the dusk of the evening, partook of the character 
of a surprise ; but it appears to me a very remark- 
able one, as having been effected under such circum- 
stances, in the dead of winter, and in the face of 
an enemy who possessed the advantages both of 
position and of numerical superiority. The author 



152 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

of the narrative adds : — " When the Marqi is de Sell 
heard the firing, and understood that the Germans 
were beat out of the island, he made the sign of the 
cross on his face and breast, and declared publicly, 
that it was the bravest action that ever he saw, and 
that his army had no honor by it. As soon as the 
boats came, the Marquis sent into the island to 
acquaint the officers that he would send them both 
troops and provisions, who thanked his Excellency, 
and desired he should be informed that they wanted 
no troops, and could not spare time to make use of 
provisions, and only desired spades, shovels, and 
pickaxes, wherewith they might intrench themselves 
— which were immediately sent to them. The next 
morning, the Marquis came into the island, and 
kindly embraced every officer, and thanked then- 
for the good service they had done his master, as 
suring them he would write a ti'ue account of their 
honor and bravery to the Court of France, which, 
at the reading his letteis, immediately went to St. 
Gemiains, and thanked King Janies for the services 
his subjects had done on the Rhine." 



THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS. 158 

The company kept possession of the island for 
nearly six weeks, notwithstanding repeated attempts 
on the part of the Germans to surprise and dislodge 
them ; but all these having been defeated by the 
extreme watchfulness of the Scots, General Stirk at 
length drew off his army and retreated. "In con- 
sequence of this action," says the Chronicler, " that 
island is called at present Isle d'Ecosse, and will in 
likelihood bear that name until the general confla- 
gration." 

Two years afterwards, a treaty of peace was con- 
cluded ; and this gallant company of soldiers, worthy 
of a better fate, was broken up and dispersed. At 
the time when the narrative, from which I have 
quoted so freely, was compiled, not more than six- 
teen of Dundee's veterans were alive. The author 
concludes thus, — " And thvls was dissolved one of 
the best companies that ever marched under com- 
mand ! Gentlemen, who, in the midst of all their 
pressures "and obscurity, never forgot they were 
gentlemen ; and whom the sweets of a brave, a just, 
and honorable conscience rendered pei-haps more 

>7* 



154 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIEKS. 

happy under those sufferings, than the most pros 
perous and triumphant in iniquity, since our minds 
stamp our happiness." 

Some years ago. while visiting the ancient Scot^ 
tish convent at Katisbon. my attention was drawn 
to the monumental inscriptions on the walls of the 
dormitory, many of which bear reference to gentle- 
men of family and distinction, whose political prin- 
ciples had involved them in the troubles of 168^. 
1715, and 1745. Whether the cloister which now 
holds their dust had afforded them a shelter in the 
latter years of their misfortunes, I know not : but, 
for one that is so commemorated, hundreds of the 
exiles must have passed away in obscurity, buried 

in the field on which they fell, or carried from the 
damp vaults of the military hospital to the trench, 
without any token of remembrance, or any other 
wish beyond that which the minstrels have ascribed 
to one of the greatest of our olden heroes — 

"Oh ! bury me by the bracken bush, 

Beneath the blooming brier ; 
l^et never living mortal ken 

That a kindlv Scot lies here '" 



THE ISLAISI D 



THE SCOTS. 



I. 

The Rhine is running deep and red, 

The is] and lies before — 
" No^v is there one of all the host 

Will dare to venture o'er? 
For not alone the river's sweep 

Might make a brave man quail : 
The foe are on the further side, 

Their shot comes fast as hall. 



156 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERSe 

God help us. if the middle isle 
We may not hope to >vm ! 

Now is there any of the host 
"tViJl (^&rp to venturo in ?" 



" The ford is deep, Ui-^ ""oanks are steep, 

The island-shore lies wide : 
Nor man nor horse could stem its force, 

Or reach the turtner side. 
See there! amidst the willow-boughs' 

The aej-ried bayonets gleam ; 
They've flung their bridge, they've won the isle ; 

The foe have crossed the stream ! 
Their ^ oUey flashes sharp and strong — 

By all the saints ! 1 trow 
There never yet was soldier born 

Could force that passage now !" 

in. 

So spoke the bold French Mareschal 
With him who led the van. 



i 



i 



THE ISLAND OF TEE SCOTS. 167 

Whilst rough and red before their view 

The turbid river ran. 
tNor bridge nor boat had they to cross 

The wild and swollen Ehine, 
And thundering on the other bank 

Far stretched the German line. 
Hard by there stood a swarthy man 

Was leaning on his sword, 
And a saddened smile lit up his face 

As he heard the Captain's word. 
" I've seen a wilder stream ere now 

Than that which rushes there ; 
I've stemmed a heavier torrent yet 

And never thought to dare. 
If German steel be sharp and keen. 

Is ours not strong and true ? 
There may be danger in the deed, 

But there is honor too." 



IV. 



The old lord in his saddle turned, 
And hastilv he said — 



I5b LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

" Hath bold Duguesclin's fiery heart 

Awakened from the dead ? 
Thou art the leader of the Scots — 

Now well and sure I know, 
That gentle blood m dangerous hour 

Ne'er yet ran cold nor slow. 
And I have seen ye in the fight 

Do all that mortal may : 
If honor is the boon ye seek 

It may be won this day — 
The prize is in the middle isle, 

There lies the adventurous way. 
And armies twain are on the phiiix, 

The daring deed to see — 
Now ask thy gallant company 

If they will follow tiiee !" 

V. 

Right gladsome looked tlie Captain then. 

And nothing did he say, 
But he turned him to his little band — 

Oh few. I ween, were they ! 



1 



THE ISLAND OF THE SCvlTS 159 

The relics of the bravest force 

Thnt ever fought in fray. 
Xo one of all that compaiiV 

But bore a gentle naTnt^ 
Not one whose fathers had not stood 

In Scotland's fields of fame. 
All they had marched with great Dundee 

To where he fought and fell, 
And in the deadly battle-strife 

Had venged their leader well ; 
And they had bent the knee to eartn 

When every eye was dim, 
As o'er their hero's buried corpse 

They sang the funeral hymn ; 
And they had trod the Pass once more. 

And stooped on either side 
To pluck the heather from the spot 

Where he had dropped and died ; 
And they had bound it next their hearts, 

And ta'en a last forewell 
Of Scottish earth and Scottish sky, 

Where Scotland's glory fell. 



1^»0 LAVS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

Then went they forth to foreign lands 
Like bent and broken men, 

Who leave their dearest hope behind, 
And may not turn again. 



VI. 



"The stream.," he said, " is broad and deep, 

And stubborn is the foe — 
Yon island-strength is guarded well — 

Say, brothers, will ye go ? 
From home and kin for many a year 

Our steps have wandered wide, 
And never may our bones be laid 

Our fathers' graves beside. 
No children have we to lament. 

No wives to wail our fall ; 
The traitor's and the spoiler's hand 

Have reft our hearths of all. 
But we have hearts, and we have arms, 

As strong to will and dare 



IHE isLASD OF THE SCOTS. • 161 

As when our ancient banners flew 

Within the northern air. 
C<jme, brothers ! let me name a spell 

Shall rouse your souls again, 
And send the old blood bounding free 

Through pulse, and heart, and vein. 
Call lack tha days of bygone years — 

Be yoimg and strong once more ; 
Inink yonder stream, so stark and red, 

Is one we've crossed before. 
Rise, hill and glen ! rise, crag and wood ! 

Rise up on either hand — 
Again upon the Garry's banks, 

On Scottish soil we stand ! 
Again I see the tartans wave, 

Again the trumpets ring ; 
Again I hear our leader's call — 

' Upon them for the King !' 
Stayed we behind that glorious day 

For roaring flood or linn ? 
The soul of Greeme is \vith us still — 

Now, brothers ! will ye in 1" 



162 LAYS OF IHE SCOTTISH CAVaLTERS. 

VII. 

No stay — no pause. With one acoord 

They grasped each other's hand; 
And plunged into the angry flood. 

That bold and dauntless band. 
High flew the spray above their heads. 

Yet onward still they bore, 
Midst cheer, and shout, and answerin<i yell, 

And shot, and cannon-roar. 
" Now, by the Holy Cross ! I swear. 

Since earth and sea began 
Was never such a daring deed 

Essayed by mortal man !" 



Thick blew the smoke across the stieam.. 
And faster flashed the flame : 

The water plashed in hissing jets 
As ball and bullet came. 

Yet onwards pushed the Cavaliers 
All stern and undismayed, 



THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS. 163 

With thousand armed foes before, 

And none behind to aid. 
Once, as they n eared the middle stream. 

So strong the torrent swept, 
That scarce that long and living wall, 

Their dangerous footing kept. 
Then lose a warning cry behind, 

A joyous shout before : 
'•* The current's strong — the way is long — 

They'll never reach the shore ! 
See. see ! they stagger in the midst. 

They waver in their line ! 
Fire on the madmen ! break their ranks. 

And whelm them in the Khine!" 



Have you seen the tall trees swaying 
When the blast is piping shrill, 

And the whirlwind reels in fury 
Down the gorges of the hill 1 

How they toss their mighty branches, 
Striving with the tempest's shock ; 



164 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALTBRS. 

How they keep their place of vantage. 

Cleaving firmly to the rock ? 
Even so the Scottish warrior's 

Held their own against the river; 
Though the water flashed around them, 

Not an eye was seen to quiver ! 
Though the shot flew sharp and deadly, 

Not a man relaxed his hold : 
Por their hearts were big and thrilling 

With the mighty thoughts of old. 
One word was spoke among them, 

And through the ranks it spread — 
"Remember our dead Claverhousel'^ 

Was all the Captain said. 
Then, sternly bending forward, 

They struggled on awhile. 
Until they cleared the heavy stream, 

Then rushed towards the isle. 



The German heart is stout and true. 
The German arm is strong ; 



THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS. 165 

The German foot goes seldom back 

Where armed foemen throng. 
But never had they faced in field 

So stern a charge before. 
And never had they felt the sweep 

Of Scotland's broad claymore. 
Not fiercer pours the avalanche 

Ad own the steep incline, 
That rises o'er the parent-springs 

Of rough and rapid Rhine — 
Scarce swifter shoots the bolt from heav^iU 

Than came the Scottish band 
Right up against the guarded trench, 

And o'er it sword in hand. 
In vain their leaders forward press — 

They meet the deadly brand ! 

XI. 

O lonely island of the Rhine, 

Where seed was never sown, 
What harvest lay upon thy sands, 

By those strong reapers throwu? 



166 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

What saw the winter moon that nightj 

As, striiggUng tnrough the rain, 
She poured a wan and ritful light 

On mai'sh, and stream, and plain 1 
A dreary spot with corpses strewn, 

And bayonets glistening round ; 
A broken bridge, a stranded boat, 

A bare and battered mound ; 
And one huge watch-fire's kindled pile^ 

That sent its quivering glare~ 
To tell the leaders of the host 

The conquering Scots were there ! 

XII. 

And did they twine the laurel-wreath 
For those who fought so well 1 

And did they honor those who lived, 
And weep for those who fell ? 

What meed of thanks was given to them 
Let aged annals tell. 

Why should they twine the laurel- wreath- 
Why crown the cup with wine 1 



TflZ ISLAND OF THE SCOTS. 167 

It was not Fi-enchjiieii's blood that flowed 

So freely on the Rhine — 
A. stranger band of beggared men 

Had done the venturous deed: 
The glory was to France alone, 

The danger was their meed. 
And what cared they for idle thanks 

From foreign prince and peer 1 
What virtue had such honeyed words 

The exiled heart to cheer ? 
What mattered it that men should vaunt 

And loud and fondly swear, 
That higher feat of chivalry 

Was never wrought elsewhere ? 
They bore within their breasts the grief 

That fame can never heal — 
The deep unutterable wo 

Which none save exiles feel. 
Their hearts were yearning for the land 

They ne'er might see again — 
For Scotland's high and heathered hills, 

For mountain, loch, and glen — 



168 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

For those who haply lay at rest 

Beyond the distant sea, 
Beneath the green and daisied turf 

Where they would gladly be 1 

XIII. 

Long years went by. The lonely isle 

In Rhine's impetuous liood 
Has ta'en another name from those 

Who bought it with their blood : 
And, though the legend does not live, 

For legends lightly die, 
The peasant, as he sees the stream 
. In winter roUuig by. 
And foaming o'er its channel-bed 

Between him and the spot 
Won by the warriors of the sword, 
Still calls that deep and dangerous ford 

The Passage of the Scot. 



CHARLES EDWARD 



VERSAILLES, 



Though the sceptre had departed from the House 
of Stuart, it was reserved for one of its last descend- 
ants to prove to the world, by his personal gallan- 
try and noble spirit of enterprise, that he at least 
had not degenerated from his royal line of ances- 
tors. The daring effort of Charles Edward to reco- 
ver the crown of these kingdoms for his father, is 
to us the most remarkable incident of the last cen- 

t^ary. It was honorable alike to the Prince and to 
8 



170 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

those who espoused his cause ; and, even in a poli- 
tical point of view, the outbreak ought not to be 
deplored, since its failure put an end for ever to the 
dynastical struggle which, for more than half a cen- 
tury, had agitated the whole of i3rilain, since it es- 
tablished the rule of law and of social order through- 
out the mountainous districts of Scotland, and 
blended Celt and Saxon into one prosperous and 
united people. It was better that the antiquated 
system of clanship should have expired in a blaze 
of glory, than gradually dwindled into contempt ; 
better that the patriarchal rule should at once have 
been extinguished by the dire catastrophe of Cullo- 
den, than that it should have lingered on, the sha- 
dow of an old tradition. There is nothing now to 
prevent us from dwelling with pride and admira- 
tion on the matchless devotion disnlayed by the 
Highlanders, in 1745, in behalf of the heir of him 
whom they acknowledged as their lawful king. 
No feeling can arise to repress the interest and 
the sympathy which is excited by the perusal of 
thfe tale narrating the sufferings of the princely 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 171 

wanderer. That unbought loyalty and allegiance of 
the heart, which would not depart from its constancy 
until the tomb of the Vatican had closed upon the 
last of the Stuart line, has long since been transferred 
to the constitutional sovereign of these realms; and 
the enthusiastic welcome which has so often greeted 
the return of Queen Victoria to her Highland home, 
owes its origin to a deeper feeling than that dull 
respect which modern liberalism asserts to be the 
only tribute due to the first magistrate of the land. 
The campaign of 1745 yields in romantic interest 
to none which is written in history. A young and 
inexperienced prince, whose person was utterly 
unknown to any of his adherents, landed on the 
west coast of Scotland, not at the head of a foreign 
force, not munimented with supplies and arms, but 
accompanied by a mere handful of followers, and 
ignorant of the language of the people amongst 
whom he was hazarding his person. His presence 
in Scotland had not been urged by the chiefs of the 
clans, most of whom were deeply averse to 
embarking in an enterprise which must involve 



172 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

them in a war with so powerful an antagonist as 
England, and which, if unsuccessful, could only 
terminate in the utter ruin of their fortunes. This 
was not a cause in which the whole of Scotland was 
concerned. Although it was well known that many- 
leading families in the Lowlands entertained Jaco- 
bite opinions, and although a large proportion of the 
common people had not yet become reconciled to, 
or satisfied of the advantages of the Union, by 
which they considered themselves dishonored and 
betrayed, it was hardly to be expected that, without 
some fair guarantee for success, the bulk of the 
Scottish nation would actively bestir themselves on 
the side of the exiled family. Besides this, even 
amongst the Highlanders there was not unanimity 
of opinion. The three northern clans of Sutherland, 
Mackay, and Monro, were known to be staunch 
supporters of the Government. It was doubtful 
what part might be taken in the struggle by those 
of Mackenzie and Ross. The chiefs of Skye, who 
could have brought a large force of armed men into 
the field, had declined participating in the attempt. 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 173 

Tho assistance from Lord Lovat, upon whom the 
wO'Operation of the F.rasers might depend, could not 
be calculated on with certainty ; and nothing but 
hostility" could be expected from the powerful sept 
of the Campbells. Under such circumstances, it is 
little wonder if Cameron of Locheill,. the most 
sagacious of all the chieftains who favored the 
Stuart cause, was struck with consternation and 
alarm at the news of the Prince's landing, or that 
he attempted to persuade him from undertaking an 
adventure so seemin^^Jy hopeless. Mr. Robert 
Chambers, in his admirable history of that period, 
does not in the least exaggerate the importance of 
the interview on the result of which the prosecution 
of the war depended. " On arriving at Borrodale, 
Locheili had a private interview with the Prince, in 
which the probabilities of the enterprise were 
anxiously debated. Charles used every argument 
to excite the loyalty of Locheili, and the chief 
exerted all his eloquence to persuade the Prince to 
withdraw till a better opportunity. Charles repre« 
sented the present as the best possible opportunity, 



174 i.AYS OF THE SCOTT.»i?H CAVALIERC. 

seeing that the French general kept the British 
army completely engaged abroad, while at home 
there were no troops but one or two newly raised 
regiments. He expressed his confidence that a 
small body of Highlanders would be sufficient to 
gain a victory over all the force that could now be 
brought against him; and he was equally sure 
that such an advantage was all that was required to 
make his friends at home declare in his favor, and 
cause those abroad to send him assistance. All he 
wanted w\as that the Highlanders would begin the 
war. Locheill still resisted, entreating Charles to 
be more temperate, and consent to remain concealed 
where he was, till his friends should meet together 
and concert what was best to be done. Charles, 
whose mind was w^ound up to the utmost pitch of 
impatience, pa"d no regard to this proposal, but 
answered that he was determined to put all to the 
hazard. 'In a few days,' said he, 'with the few 
friends I have, I will raise the royal standard, and 
proclaim to the people of Britain that Charles 
Stuart is come over to claim the crown of his 



CUARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 175 

ancestors — to win it, or to perish in the attempt ! 
Locheill — who, my father has often told me, was 
our firmest friend — may stay at home, and learn 
from the newspapers the fate of his Prince !' ' No !' 
said Locheill, stung by so poignant a reproach, and 
hurried away by the enthusiasm of the moment ; 
' I will share the fate of my Prince, and so shall 
every man over whom nature or fortune has given 
me any power.' Such was the juncture upon which 
depended the civil war of 1745 ; for it is a point 
agreed, says Mr. Home, who narrates this conver- 
sation, that if Locheill had persisted in his refusal 
to take arms, no other chief would have joined the 
standard, and the spark of rebellion must have been 
instantly extinguished." Not more than twelve 
hundred men were assembled in Glenfinnan on the 
day when the standard was unfurled by the Marquis 
of Tullibardine ; and at the head of this mere hand- 
ful of followers, Charles Edward commenced the 
stupendous enterprise of reconquering the dominions 
of his fathers. 

With a force which, at the battle of Preston, did 



176 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

not double the above numbers, the Prince descended 
upon the Lowlands, having baffled the attempts of 
General Cope to intercept his march — occupied the 
city of Perth and the town of Dundee, and finally, 
after a faint show of resistance on the part of the 
burghers, took possession of the ancient capital of 
Scotland, and once more established a court in the 
halls of Holy rood. His youth, his gallantry, and 
the grace and beauty of his person, added to a most 
winning and affable address, acquired for him the 
sympathy of many who, from political motives, 
abstained from becoming his adherents. Possibly 
certain feelings of nationality, which no deliberate 
view^s of civil or religious policy could altogether 
extirpate, led such men to regard, with a sensation 
'akin to pride, the spectacle of a prince descended 
from the long line of Scottish kings, again occupy- 
ing his ancestral seat, and restoring to their country, 
which had been utterly neglected by the new 
dynasty, a portion of its former state. No doubt 
a sense of pity for the probable fate of one so young 
and chivalrous was often present to their minds, for 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. J 77 

they had thorough confidence in the intrepidity of 
the regular troops, and in the capacity of their com- 
mander; and they never for a moment supposed 
that these could be successfully encountered by a 
raw levy of undisciplined Highlanders, ill-armed 
and worse equipped, and without the support of 
any artillery. 

The issue of the battle of Prestonpans struck 
Edinburgh with amazement. In point of numbers 
the two armies were nearly equal, but in everything 
else, save personal valor, the royal troops had the 
advantage. And yet, in four minutes — for the battle 
is said not to have lasted longer — the Highlanders 
having made only one terrific and impetuous charge 
— the rout of the regulars was general. The in- 
fantry was broken and cut to pieces ; the dragoons, 
who behaved shamefully on the occasion, turned 
bridle and fled, without having once crossed swords 
with the enemy. Mr. Chambers thus terminates 
his account of the action : " The general result of 
the battle of Preston may be stated as having been 

the total overthrow and almost entire destruction 

8* 



178 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

of the royal army. Most of the infantry, falling 
upon the park walls of Preston, were there huddled 
together without the power of resistance into a 
confused drove, and had either to surrender or be 
cut to pieces. Many, in vainly attempting to climb 
over the walls, fell an easy prey to the ruthless 
claymore. Nearly 400, it is aid, were thus slain, 
700 taken, while only about 170 in all succeeded in 
effecting their escape. 

" The dragoons, with worse conduct, were much 
more fortunate. In falling back, they had the good 
luck to find outlets from their respective positions 
by the roads which ran along the various extremi- 
ties of the park wall, and they thus got clear 
through the village with little slaughter ; after 
which, as the Highlanders had no horse to pursue 
them, they were safe. Several officers, among 
whom were Fowkes and Lascellos, escaped to 
Cockenzie and along Seton Sands, in a direction 
contrary to the general flight. 

"The unfortunate Cope had attempted, at the 
first break of Gardiner's dragoons, to stop and rally 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 179 

them, but was borne headlong, with the confiised 
bands, through the narrow I'oad to the south of the 
enclosures, notwithstanding all his efforts to the 
contrary. On getting beyond the village, where he 
was joined by the retreating bands of the other 
regiment, he made one anxious effort, with the 
Earls of Loudon and Home, to form and bring them 
back to charge the enemy, now disordered by the 
pursuit ; but in vain. They fled on, ducking their 
heads along their horses' necks, to escape the bullets 
which the pursuers occasionally sent after them. 
By using great exertions, and holding pistols to the 
heads of the troopers. Sir John and a few of his 
ofticers induced a small number of them to halt in 
a field near St. Clement's Wells, about two miles 
from the battle ground. But, after a momentary 
delay, the accidental firing of a pistol renewed the 
panic, and they rode off once more in great disorder. 
Sir John Cope, with a portion of them, reached 
Channelkirk at an early hour in the forenoon, and 
there halted to breakfast, and to write a brief note 
to one of the state-officers, relating the fate of the 



160 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIEKS. 

day. He then resumed his flight, and reached 
Coldstream that night. Next morning he pro- 
ceeded to Berwick, whose fortifications seemed 
competent to give tlie security he required. He 
everywhere brought the first tidings of his own 
defeat.^' 

This victory operated very much in favor of 
Prince Charles. It secured him, for a season, the 
undisputed possession of Scotland, and enabled 
numerous adherents from all parts of the country 
to raise such forces as they could command, and to 
repair to his banner. His popularity in Edinburgh 
daily increased, as the qualities of his person and 
mind became known ; and such testimony as the 
following, with respect to his estimation by the fair 
sex, and the devotion they exhibited in his cause, is 
not overcharged : " His affability and great personal 
grace wrought him high favor with the ladies, who, 
as w^e learn from the letters of President Forbes^ 
became generally so zealous in his cause as to have 
some serious effect in inducing their admirers to 
declare for the Prince. There was, we know for 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 181 

certain, a Miss Lumsden, who plainly told hei 
lover, a young artist, named Robert Strange, that 
he might think no more of her unless he should im- 
mediately join Prince Charles, and thus actually 
prevailed upon him to take up arms. It may be 
added that he survived the enterprise, escaped with 
great difficulty, and married the lady. He was 
afterwards the best line-engraver of his time, and 
received the honor of knighthood from George III. 
White ribbons and breastknots became at this time 
conspicuous articles of female attire in private 
assemblies. The ladies also showed considerable* 
zeal in contributing plate and other articles for the 
use of the Chevalier at the palace, and in raising 
pecuniary subsidies for him. Many a posset-dish 
and snuff-box, many a treasured necklace and 
repeater, many a jewel which had adorned its sue 
cessive generations of family beauties, was at this 
time sold or laid in pledge, to raise a little money 
for the service of Prince Charlie." 

As to the motives and intended policy of this 
remarkable and unfortunate young man, it may be 



182 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

interesting to quote the terms of the proclamation 
which he issued on the 10th October, 1745, before 
commencing his march into England. Let his his- 
tory be impartially read, his character, as spoken to 
by those who knew him best, fairly noted, and I 
think there cannot be a doubt that, had he succeeded 
in his daring attempt, he would have been true to 
the letter of his word, and fulfilled a pledge which 
Britain never more required than at the period 
when that document was penned : — 

" Do not the pulpits . and congregations of the 
clergy, as well as your weekly papers, ring with 
the dreadful threats of popery, slavery, tyranny, and 
arbitrary power, which are now ready to be imposed 
upon you by the formidable powers of France and 
Spain? Is not my royal father represented as a 
bloodthirsty tyrant, breathing out nothing but 
destruction to all who will not immediately embrace 
an odious religion ? Or have I myself been better 
used 1 But listen only to the naked truth. 

''I, with my own money, hired a small vessel. 
Ill-supplied with money, arms, or friends, 1 arrived 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 183 

in Scotland, attended by seven persons. I publish 
the King my father's declaration, and proclaim his 
title, with pardon in one hand, and in the other 
liberty of conscience, and the most solemn promises 
to grant whatever a free Parliament shall propose 
for the happiness of the people. I have, I confess, the 
greatest reason to adore the goodness of Almighty 
God, who has in so remarkable a manner protected 
me and my small army through the many dangers 
to which we were at first exposed, and who has led 
me in the way to victory, and to the capital of this 
ancient kingdom, amidst the acclamations of the 
King my father's subjects. Why, then, is so much 
pains taken to spirit up the minds of the people 
against this my undertaking ? 

"The reason is obvious; it is, lest the real 
sense of the nation's present sufferings should 
blot out the remembrance of past misfortunes, 
and of the outcries formerly raised against the 
royal family. Whatever miscarriages might have 
given occasion to them, they have been more than 
atoned for since ; and the nation has now au 



184 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

opportunity of being secured against the like in 
future. 

" That our family has suffered exile during 
these fifty-seven years, everybody knows. Has the 
nation, during that period of time, been the more 
happy and flourishing for it 1 Have you found 
reason to love and cherish your governors as the 
fathers of the people of Great Britain and Ireland ? 
Has a family, upon whom a faction unlawfully 
bestowed the diadem of a rightful prince, retained 
a due sense of so great a trust and favor ? Have 
you found more humanity and condescension in 
those who were not born to a crown, than in my 
royal forefathers? Have their ears been open to 
the cries of the people? Have they or do they 
consider only the interest of these nations ? Have 
you reaped any, other benefit from them than an 
immense load of debt? If I am answered in the 
affirmative, why has their government been so often 
railed at in all your public assemblies ? Why 
has the nation been so long crying out in vain 
for redress against the abuse of Parliaments, upon 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAIl-LES. 185 

account of their long duration, the multitude of 
plkcemen, which occasions their venality, the intro- 
duction of penal laws, and, iri general, against the 
miserable situation of the kingdom at home and 
abroad ? All these, and many more inconveniences 
must now be removed, unless the people of Great 
Britain be already so far corrupted that they 
will not accept of freedom when offered to them, 
seeing the King, on his restoration, will refuse 
nothing that a free Parliament can ask for the 
security of the religion, laws, and liberty of his 
people. 

"It is now time to conclude; and I shall do it 
with this reflection. Civil wars are ever attended 
with rancour and ill-will, which party-rage never 
fails to produce in the minds of those whom differ- 
ent interests, principles, or views, set in opposition 
to one another. I, therefore, earnestly require it 
of my friends to give as little loose as possible to 
such passions: this will prove the most effectual 
means to prevent the same in the enemies of my 
royal cause. And this my declaration will vindicate 



186 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

to all posterity the nobleness of my undertaking 
and the generosity of my intentions." 

There was much truth in the open charges 
preferred in this declaration against the existing 
Government. The sovereigns of the house of Hanover 
had always shown a marked predilection for their 
Continental possessions, and had proportionally 
neglected the affairs of Britain. Under Walpole's 
administration, the imperial Parliament had degene- 
rated from an independent assembly to a junta of 
placemen, and the most flagitious system of bribery 
was openly practised and avowed. It was not with- 
out reason that Charles contrasted the state of the 
nation then, with its position when under the rule 
of the legitimate family ; and had there not been a 
strong, though, I think, unreasonable suspicionjn the 
minds of many, that his success would be the prelude 
to a vigorous attack upon the established religions of 
tne country, and that he would be inclined to follow 
out in this respect the fatal policy of his grandfather, 
Charles would in all probability have received a 
more active and general support than was accorded 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 187 

to him. The zeal with which the Episcopalian party 
in Scotland espoused his cause, naturally gave rise 
to the idea that the attempt of the Prince was of 
evil omen to Presbytery ; and the settlement of the 
Church upon its present footing w^as yet so recent, 
that the sores of the old feud were still festering and 
green. The established clergy, therefore, were nearly, 
to a man, opposed to his pretensions; and one 
minister of Edinburgh, at the time when the High- 
land host was in possession of the city, had the 
courage to conclude his prayer nearly? in the follow- 
ing terms — " Bless the king ; Thou knows what king 
I mean — may his crown long sit easy on his head. 
And as to this young man who has come among us 
to seek an earthly crown, we beseech Thee in mercy 
to take him to thyself and give him a crown of 
glory !" At the same time, it is very curious to 
observe, that the most violent sect of Presbyterians, 
who might be considered as the representatives of 
the extreme Cameronian principle, and who had 
early seceded from the Church, and bitterly opposed 
the union of the kingdoms, were not indisposed, on 



188 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

certain terms, to coalesce with the Jacobites. It is 
hardly possible to understand the motives which 
actuated these men, who appear to have regarded 
each successive Government as equally obnoxious. 
Some writers go the length of averring that, in 1688, 
a negotiation was opened by one section of the 
Covenanters with Lord Dundee, with the object of 
resistance to the usurpation of William of Orange, 
and that the project was frustrated only by the death 
of that heroic nobleman. Sir Walter Scott — a great 
authority — seems to have been convinced that such 
was the case; but in the absence of direct proof, 
I can hardly credit it. It is perfectly well known 
that a conspiracy was formed by a certain section of 
the Cameronian party to assassinate Lords Dundee 
and Dunfermline whilst in attendance at the meeting 
of Estates : and although the recognition of William 
as King might not have been palatable to others 
who held the same opinions, it would be a strange 
thing if they had so suddenly resolved to assist 
Dundee in his efforts for the exiled family. But the' 
political changes in Scotland, more especially the 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 189 

Union, seem to have inspired some of these men with 
a spirit of disaffection to the Government; for, 
according to Mr. Chambers, the most rigid sect of 
Presbyterians had, since the revolution, expressed a 
strong desire to coalesce with the O'acobites, with the 
hope, in case the house of Stuart were restored, to 
obtain what they called a covenanted King. Of this 
sect one thousand had assembled in Dumfriesshire 
at the first intelligence of the insurrection, bearing 
arms and colors, and supposed to contemplate a 
junction with the Chevalier. But these religionists 
were now almost as violently distinct from the 
Established Chuich of Scotland as ever they had 
been from those of England and Rome, and had 
long ceased to play a prominent part in the national 
disputes. The established clergy, and the greater 
part of their congregations, were averse to Charles, 
upon considerations perfectly moderate, at the same 
time not easy to be shaken. 

On commencing his march into England, Cliarles 
found himself at the head of an army of between 
five thousand and six thousand men, which force 



190 LAYS or THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

was considered strong enough, with the augmenta- 
tions it might receive on the way, to effect the 
occupation of London. Had the English Jacobites 
performed their part with the same zeal as the Scots, 
it is more than probable that the attempt would 
have been crowned with success. As it was, the 
Prince succeeded in reducing the strong fortified 
town of Carlisle, and in marching without oppo- 
sition through tTie heart of England, as far as 
Derby, within one hundred miles of the metropolis. 
But here his better genius deserted him. Discord 
had crept into his councils : for some of the chiefs 
became seriously alarmed at finding that the gentry 
^of England were not prepared to join the expedition, 
but preferred remaining at home, inactive specta- 
tors of the contest. Except at Manchester, they had 
received few or no recruits. No tidings had reached 
them from Wales, a country supposed to be devoted 
to the cause of King James, whilst it was well 
knoMn that a large force was already in arms to 
oppose the clans. ]\fr. Chambers gives us the 
following details : — " At a council of war held on the 



CHARLES EDWARD A.T VERSAILLES. 191 

morning of the 5th December, Lord George Murray 
and the other members gave it as their imanimous 
opinion that the army ought to return to Scotland. 
Lord George pointed out that they were about to ^ 
be environed by three armies, amounting collec- 
tively to about thirty thousand men, while their own 
forces were not above five thousand, if so many. 
Supposing an unsuccessful engagement with any of 
these armies, it could not be expected that one man 
would escape, for the militia would beset every road. 
The Prince, if not slain in the battle, must fall into 
the enemy's hands : the whole world would blame 
them as fools for running into such a risk. Charles 
answered, that he regarded not his own danger. 
He pressed, with all the force oft argument, to go 
forward. He did not doubt, he said, that the justice 
of his cause would prevail. He was hopeful that 
there might be a defection in the enemy's army, 
and that many would declare for him. He was so 
very bent on putting all to the risk, that the Duke 
of Perth was for it, since his Royal Highness was. At 
Jast he proposed going to Wales instead of return- 



192 La^S of the SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

ing to Carlisle ; but every other olfiC'Cr declared 
his opinion for a retreat. These are nearly the 
words of Lord George Murrav. We are elsewhere 
told that the Prince cot»desceiided to use entreaties 
to induce his adherents to alter their resolution. 
' Rather than go back,' he said, ' I would wish to be 
twenty feet under ground !' His chagrin, when 
he found his councillors obdurate, was beyond all 
bounds. The council broke up, on the under- 
standing that the retreat was to commence next 
morning ; Lord George volunteering to take the 
place of honor in the rear, provided only that he 
should not be troubled with the baggage." 

This resolution was received by the army with 
marks of unequ^ocal vexation. Retreat, in their 
estimation, was little less than overthrow; and it 
was most galling to find that, after all their labors, 
hazards, and toils, they were doomed to disappoint- 
ment at the very moment when the prize seemed 
ready for their grasp. That the movement was an 
injudicious one is, I think, obvious. We are told, 
upon good authority, " that the ^ery boldness of the 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 103 

Prince's onward movement, esDecially taken into 
connection with the expected descent from France, 
had at length disposed the English Jacobites to come 
out ; and many were just on the point of declar- 
ing themselves, and marching to join his army, 
when the retreat from Derby was determined on. 
A Mr. Barry arrived in Derby two days after the 
Prince left it, with a message from Sir Watkin 
William Wynne and Lord Barrymore, to assure 
him, in the names of many ffiends of the cause, that 
they were ready to join him in what manner he 
pleased, either in the capital, or every one to rise in 
Lis own country. I have likewise been assured that 
many of the Welsh gentry had actually left their 
homes, and were on the way to join Charles, when 
intelligence of his retreat at once sent them all back 
peaceably, convinced that it was now too late to 
contribute their assistance. These men, from the 
power they had over their tenantry, could have 
added materially to his military force. In fact, 
from all that appears, we must conclude that the 

insurgents had a very considerable chance of suo- 
9 



194 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

cess from an onward movement — also, no doubt, a 
chance of destruction, and yet not worse than what 
ultimately befell many of them — while a retreat 
broke in a moment tne spell which their gallantry 
had conjured up, and gave the enemy a great 
advantage over them." 

One victory more was accorded to Prince Charles, 
before his final overthrow. After successfully con- 
ducting his retreat to Scotland, occupying Glasgow 
and strengthening his army by the accession of new 
recruits, he gave battle to the royal forces under 
General Hawley at Falkirk, and, as at Preston, 
drove them from the field. The parties were on 
this occasion fairly matched, there being about 
eight thousand men engaged on either side. The 
action was short ; and, though not so decisive as the 
former one, gave great confidence to the insurgents. 
It has been thus picturesquely portrayed by the 
historian of the enterprise : — " Some individuals, 
who beheld the battle from the steeple of f alkirk, 
used to describe these its main events as occupying 
a surprisingly brief space of time. They first saw 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 195 

the English army enter the misty and storm-covered 
muir at the top of the hill ; then saw the dull at- 
mosphere thickened by a fast rolling smoke, and 
heard the pealing sounds of the discharge ; imme- 
diate! v after, they beheld the discomfited troops 
burst wildly from the cloud in which they had been 
involved, and rush in far-spread disorder over the 
face of the hill. From the commencement to wliat 
'they styled ' the break of the battle,' there did not 
intervene more than ten minutes — so soon may an 
efficient body of men become, by one transient 
emotion of cowardice, a feeble and contemptible 
rabble. 

"The rout would have been total, but for the 
three ou1>flanking regiments. These not having 
been opposed by any of the clans, having a ravine 
in front, and deriving some support from a small 
body of dragoons, stood their ground under tht 
command of General Huske and Brigadier Cliol- 
mondley. When the Highlanders went past in 
pursuit, they received a volley from this part of 
the English army, which brought them to a pause. 



196 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

and caused them to draw back to their former 
gromid, their impression being that some ambus- 
cade was intended. This saved the English army 
from destruction. A pause took place, during 
which the bulk of the English infantry got back 
to Falkirk. It was not until Lord George Murray 
brought up the second line of his wing and the 
pickets, with some others on the other wing, that 
General Huske drew off his party, which he did in- 
good order."' 

The seat of war w^as now removed to the North. 
The month of April, 1746, found Prince Charles in 
possession of Inverness, with an army sorely dwindled 
in numbers, and in great want of necessaries and 
provisions. Many of the Highlanders had retired 
for the winter to their native glens, and had not yet 
rejoined the standard. The Duke of Cumberland, 
who now commanded the English army, with a 
reputation not diminished by the unfortunate issue 
of Fontenoy, was at the head of a large body of 
tried and disciplined troops, in the best condition, 
and supported by the powerful arm of artillery. 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VEKHAlLLES. 197 

He effected the passage of the Spey, a large and 
rapid river which intersects the Highlands, without 
encountering any opposition, and on the 15th of the 
month had arrived at Nairn, about nine miles dis- 
tant from the position occupied by his kinsman and 
opponent. His superiority in point of strength was 
so great that the boldest of the insurgent chiefs 
hesitated as to the policy of giving immediate battle ; 
and nothing but the desire of covering Inverness 
prevented the council from recommending a further 
retreat tnto the mountains, where they could not 
have been easily followed, and where ihey were 
certain to have met with reinforcements. As to the 
Prince, his confidence in the prowess of the High- 
landers was so unbounded, that, even with such 
odds against him, he would not listen to a proposal 
for delay. 

There yet remained, says Mr. Chambers, before 
playing the great stake of a pitched battle, one 
chance of success, by the irregular mode of warfare 
to which the army was accustomed ; and Charles 
resolved to put it to trial. This was a night-altack 



iy» LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

upon the camp of the Duke of Cumberland. II9 
ria^htly argued, that if his men could approach with- 
but being discovered, and make a simultaneous attack 
in more than one place, the royal forces, then pro- 
l;aoly either engaged in drinking their commander's 
health, (the 15th happened to be the anniversary of 
the Duke's biVth-day, and was celebrated as such by 
his army,) or sleeping off the effects of the debauch, 
must be completely surprised and cut to pieces, or 
at least effectually routed. The time appointed for 
setting out upon the march was eight in the evening, 
when daylight should have completely disappeared; 
and, in the mean time, great pains were taken to 
conceal the secret from the army. 

This resolution was entered into at three in the 
aflernoon, and orders were given to collect the men 
who had gone off in search of provisions. The 
officers dispersed themselves to Inverness and other 
places, and besought the stragglers to repair to the 
muir. But, under the influence of hunger, they told 
their commanders to shoot them if they pleased 
rather than compel them to starve any longer. 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 199 

Charles had previously declared, with his character- 
istic fervor, that though only a thousand of his men 
should accompany him, he would lead them an to 
the attack ; and he was not, now intimidated when 
he saw twice that number ready to assist in the 
enterprise ; though some of his officers would wil- 
lingly have made this deficiency of troops an excuse 
for abandoning what they esteemed at best a 
hazardous expedition. Having given out for watch- 
word the name of his father, he embraced Lord 
George Murray, who was to command the foremost 
column, and putting himself at the head of that 
which followed, gave the order to march. 

The attempt proved peculiarly unfortunate, and 
from the fatigue which it occasioned to the High- 
landers, contributed in a great degree towards the 
disaster of the following day. The night chanced 
to be uncommonly dark, and as it was well known 
that Cumberland had stationed spies on the prin- 
cipal roads, it became necessary to select a devious 
route, in order to effect a surprise. The columns, 
proceeding over broken and irresujar ground, soon 



200 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

became scattered and dislocated ; no exertions of 
the officers could keep the men together, so that 
Lord George Murray at two o'clock found that he 
was still distant three miles from the hostile camp, 
and that there were no hopes of commencing the 
attack before the break of day, when they would 
be open to the observation of the enemy. Under 
these circumstances a retreat was commenced : 
and the scheme, which at one time seemed to 
hold out every prooability of success, was aban- 
doned. 

" The Highlanders returned, fatigued and discon- 
solate, to their former position, about seven in the 
morning, when they immediately addressed them- 
selves to sleep, or went away in search of provisions. 
So scarce was food at this critical juncture, that the 
Prince himself, on retiring to Culloden House, could 
obtain no better refreshment than a little bread and 
whisky. He felt the utmost anxiety regarding his 
men, among whom the pangs of hunger, upon bodies 
exhausted by fatigue nijist have been working effects 
most unpromising to his success; and he gave 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 201 

orders, before seeking any repose, that the whole 
country should now be mercilessly ransacked for the 
means of refreshment. His orders were not without 
effect. Considerable supplies were procured, and 
subjected to the cook's art at Inverness; but the 
poor famished clansmen were destined never to 
taste these provisions, the hour of battle arriving 
before they were prepared." 

About eleven in the forenoon, the troops of Cum- 
berland were observed upon the eastern extremity 
of the wide muir of Culloden, and preparations 
were instantly made for the coming battle. The 
army had been strengthened that morning by the 
arrival of the Keppoch Macdonalds and a party of 
the Frasers ; but, even with these reinforcements, 
the whole available force which the Prince could 
muster was about five thousand men, to oppose at 
fearful odds an enemy twice as numerous, and 
heavily supported by artillery. Fortune on this day 
seemed to have deserted the Prince altogether. In 
drawing out the line of battle, a most unlucky 

arrangement was made by O'Sullivan, who acted as 
9* 



202 



LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CiVALIERS. 



• adjutant, whereby the Macdonald regiments were 
removed from the right wing— the place which the 
great clan Colla nas been privileged to hold in 
Scottish array ever since the auspicious battle of 
Bannockburn. To those who are not acquainted 
with the peculiar temper and spirit of the High- 
landers, and their punctilio upon points of honor 
and precedence, the, question of arrangement will 
naturally appear a matter of little importance. But 
it was not so felt by the Macdonalds, who considered 
their change of position as a positive degradation, 
and who further looked upon it as an evil omen to 
the success of the battle. The results of this mis- 
take will be noticed immediately. 

Just before the commencement of the action, the 
weather, which had hitherto been fair and sunny, 
became overcast, and a heavy blast of rain and sleet 
beat directly in the faces of the Highlanders. The 
English artillery then began to play upon them, 
and, being admirably served, eyery discharge told 
with fearful effect upon the ranks. The chief object 
if either party at the battle of Culloden seems to 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 203 

have been to force its opponent to leave his position, 
and to commence the attack. Cumberland, finding 
that his artillery was doing such execution, had no 
occasion to move ; and Charles appears to have 
committed a great error in abandoning a mode of 
warfare which was peculiarly suited for his troops, 
and which on two previous occasions had proved 
eminently successful. Had he at once ordered a 
general charge, and attempted to silence the guns, 
the issue of the day might have been otherwise: 
but his unfortunate star prevailed. 

"It was not," says Mr. Chambers, "till the 
cannonade had continued nearly half an hour, and 
the Highlanders had seen many of their kindred 
stretched upon the heath, that Charles at last gave 
way to the necessity of ordering a charge. The 
aide-de-camp intrusted to carry his message to the 
lieutenant-general — a youth of the name of Mac- 
lachlan — was killed by a cannon-ball before he 
reached the first line ; but the general sentiment of 
the army, as reported to Lord George Murray, sup- 
plied the want, and that general took it upon him 



204 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

to oi'der an attack without Charles's permission 
having'been communicated. 

"Lord George had scarcely determined upon 
ordering a general movement, when tfie Macintoshes, 
a brave and devoted clan, though not before en- 
gaged in action, unable any longer to brook the 
unavenged slaughter made by the cannon, broke 
from the centre of the line, and rushed forward 
through smoke and snow to mingle with the enemy. 
The Athole men, Camerons, Stuarts, Erasers, and 
Macleans, also went on ; Loi"d George Murray 
heading them with that rash bravery befitting the 
commander of such forces. Thus, in the course of 
one or two minutes, the charge was general along 
the whole line, except at the left extremity, where 
the Macdonalds, dissatisfied with their position, 
hesitated to engage. 

"The action and event of the onset were, through- 
out, quite as dreadful as the mental emotion which 
urged it. Notwithstanding that the three files of 
the front line of English poured forth their inces- 
sant tire of musketry — notwithstanding that the 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 205 

cannon, now loaded with grapeshot, swept the field 
as with a hail-storm — notwithstanding the flank 
fire of Wolfe's regiment — onward, onward went 
the headlong Highlanders, flinging themselves into, 
rather than rushing upon, the lines of the enemy, 
which, indeed, they did not see for smoke, till in- 
volved among the weapons. All that courage, all 
that despair could do, was done. It was a moment 
of dreadful and agonizing suspense, but only a mo- 
ment — for the whirlwind does not reap the forest 
with greater rapidity than the Highlanders cleared 
the line. Nevertheless, almost every man in their 
front rank, chief and gentleman, fell before the 
deadly weapons which they had braved; and al- 
though the enemy gave way, it was not till every 
bayonet was bent and bloody with the strife. 

" When the first line had thus been swept aside, 
the assailants continued their impetuous advance, 
till they came near the second, when, being almost 
annihilated by a profuse and well-directed fire, the 
shattered remains of what had been before a numer- 
ous and confident force began to give way. Still 



206 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

a few rushed on, resolved rather to die than 
forfeit their well acquired and dearly estimated 
honor. They rushed on ; but not a man ever 
came in contact with the enemy. The last sur- 
vivor perished as he reached the points of the 
bayonets." 

Some idea of the determination displayed by the 
Highlanders in this terrific charge may be gathered 
from the fact that, in one part of the field, their 
bodies were afterwards found in layers of three and 
four deep. The slaughter was fearful, for, out of the 
five regiments which charged the English, almost all 
the leaders and men in the front rank were killed. 
So shaken was the English line, that, had the Mac- 
donald regiments, well known to yield in valor to 
none of the clans, come up, the fortune of the day 
might have been altered. But they never made an 
onset. Smarting and sullen at the affront which 
they conceived to have been put upon their name, 
they bore the fire of the English regiments without^ 
flinching, and gave way to their rage by hewing at 
the heather with their swords. In vain their chiefs 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 207 

exhorted them to go forward ; even at that terrible 
moment the pride of clanship prevailed. " My 
God !" cried Macdonald of Keppoch, " has it come 
to this, that the children of my tribe have forsaken 
me!" and he rushed forward alone, sword in hand, 
with the devotion of an ancient hero, and fell pierced 
with bullets. 

The Lowland and foreign troops which formed 
the second line were powerless to retrieve the 
disaster. All was over. The rout became general, 
and the Prince was forced from the field, which he 
would not quit until dragged from it by his imme- 
diate body-guard. 

Such was the last battle, the result of civil war, 
which has been fought on British soil. Those who 
were defeated have acquired as much glory from it 
as the conquerors — and even more, for never was a 
conquest sullied by such deeds of deliberate cruelty 
as were perpetrated upon the survivors of the battle 
of CuUoden. It is not, however, the object of the 
present paper to recount these, or even the roman- 
tic history and hair-breadth escapes of the Prince, 



208 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

whilst wandering on the mainland and through the 
Hebrides. Although a reward of thirty thousand 
pounds — an immense sum for the period — was set 
upon his head — although his secret was known to 
hundreds of persons m every walk of life, and even 
to the beggar and the outlaw — ^not one attempted to 
betray him. Not one of all his followers, in the 
midst of the misery which overtook them, regretted 
having drawn the sword in his cause, or would not 
again have gladly imperilled their lives for the sake 
of their beloved Chevalier. " He went," says Lord 
Mahon, " but not with hini departed his remem- 
brance from the Highlanders. For years and years 
did his name continue enshrined in their hearts and 
familiar to their tongues, their plaintive ditties re. 
sounding with his exploits and inviting his return. 
Again, in these strains, do they declare themselves 
ready to risk life and fortune for his cause ; and even 
maternal fondness — the strongest, perhaps, of all 
human feelings — yields to the passionate devotion 
to Prince Charlie.'"' 

The subsequent life of the Prince is a story of 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 209 

melancholy interest. W e find him at first received in 
France Avith all the honors due to one who, though 
unfortunate, had exhibited a heroism rarely equalled 
and never surpassed : gradually he was neglected 
and slighted, as one of a doomed and unhappy race, 
whom no human exertion could avail to elevate 
to their former seat of power ; and finally, when 
nis presence in France became an obstacle to the 
conclusion of peace, he was violently arrested and 
conveyed out of the kingdom. There can be little 
doubt that continued misfortune and disappointment 
had begun very early to impair his noble mind. 
For long periods he was a wanderer, lost sight of by 
his friends and even by his father and brother. 
There are fragments of his writing extant which 
show how poignantly he felt the cruelty of his 
fortune. '• De vivre et pas vivre est beaucoup plus 
que de mourir!" And again, writing to his father's 
secretary, eight years after Culloden, he says — "I 
am grieved that our master should thmk that my 
silence was either neglect or want of duty ; but, in 
reality, my situation is such that I have nothing to 



210 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

say but imprecations against the fatality of being 
born in such a detestable age." An unnappy and 
uncongenial marriage tended still more to embittei 
his existence ; and if at last he yielded to frailties 
which inevitably insure degradation, it must be 
remembered that his lot had been one to which few 
men have ever_ been exposed, and the magnitude 
of his sufferings may fairly be admitted as some 
palliation for his weakness. 

To the last, his heart was with Scotland. The 
following anecdote was related by his brother 
Cardinal York, to Bishop Walker, the late Primus 
of the Episcopal Church of Scotland : — " Mr. Great- 
head, a personal friend of Mr. Fox, succeeded, when 
at Rome in 1782 or 1783, in obtaining an interview 
with Charles Edward ; and, being alone with him 
for some time, studiously led the conversation to his 
enterprise in Scotland, and to the occurrences which 
succeeded the failure of that attempt. The Prince 
manifested some reluctance to enter upon these 
topics, appearing at the same time to undergo so 
much mental suffering, that his guest regretted the 



) 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 211 

freedom he had used in calling up the remembrance 
of his misfortunes. At length, however, the Prince 
seemed to shake off the load which oppressed him ; 
his eye brightened, his face assumed unwonted ani- 
mation, and he entered upon the narrative of his 
Scottish campaigns with a distinct but somewhat 
vehement energy of manner — recounted his marches, 
his battles, his victories, his retreats, and his defeats 
— detailed his hair-breadth escapes in the Western 
Isles, the inviolable and devoted attachment of his 
Highland friends, and at length proceeded to allude 
to the terrible penalties with which the chiefs among 
them had been visited. Bat here the tide of emo- 
tion rose too high to allow him to go on — his voice 
faltered, his eyes became fixed, and he fell con- 
vulsed on the floor. The noise brought into his 
room his daughter, the Duchess of Albany, who 
happened to be in an adjoining apartment. ' Sir,' 
she exclaimed, ' what is this 1 You have been 
speaking to my father about Scotland and the 
Highlanders ! No one dares to mention those 
subjects in his presence.'" 



212 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

He died on the 30th of January, 1T88, in the 
arms of the Master of Nairn. The monument 
erected to him, his father, and brother, in St. Peter's, 
by desire of George IV., was perhaps the most 
graceful tribute ever paid by royalty to mis 
fortune — Kegio ctneri Pietas Regia. 



CHARLES EDWARD 

AT 

• VERSAILLES 
ON TH'? AlimiVERSARY OF CULLODE>^ 



Take away that star and garter — 

Hide them from my aching sight ! 
Neither king nor prince shall tempt me 

From my lonely room this night. 
Fitting for the throneless exile 

Is the atmosphere of pall, 
And the gusty winds that shiver 

'Neath the tapestry on the wall ; 



214 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS, 

When the taper faintly d\Yindles 
Like the pulse within the vein, 
That to gay and merry measure 

Ne'er may hope to bound again. 
Let the shadows gather round me 

While I sit in silence here, 
Broken-hearted as an orphan 

Watching by his father's bier. 
Let me hold my still communion 

Far from every earthly sound— 
Day of penance— day of passion— 
Ever, as the year comes round : 
Fatal day ! whereon the latest 

Die was cast for me and mine 

Cruel day, that quelled the fortunes 

Of the hapless Stuart line ! 
Phantom-like, as in a mirror, 

Eise the grisly scenes of death — 
There before me in its wildness. 

Stretches bare Culloden's heath : 

There the broken clans are scattered, 

" Gaunt as wolves, and f\rnine-eyed, 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 215 

Hunger gnawing at their vitals, 

Hope abandoned, all but pride — 
Pride — and that supreme devotiou 

Which the southron never knew, 
And the hatred, deeply rankling, 

'Gainst the Hanoverian crew. 
Oh, my God ! are these the remnants. 

These the wrecks of the array, 
That around the royal standard 

Gathered on the glorious day, 
' When in deep Glenfinnan's valley. 

Thousands on their bended knees 
Saw once more that stately ensign 

Waving in the northern breeze I 
When the noble Tullibardine 

Stood beneath its weltering fold, 
With the Ruddy Lion ramping 

In its field of tressured gold ! 
When the mighty heart of Scotlani, 

All too big to slumber more, 
Burst in M-rath and exultation, 

Like a huge volcano's roar ! 



210 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

There they stand, the battered columns, 

Underneath the murky sky- 
In the hush of" desperation, 

Not to conquer, but to die. 
Hark ! the bagpipe's fitful wailing : 

Not the pibroch loud and shrill, 
That, with hope of bloody banquet. 

Lured the ravens from the hill, — 
But a dirge both low and solemn, 

Fit for ears of dying men. 
Marshalled for their latest battle, 

Never more to fight again. 
Madness — madness ! Why this shrinking 1 

Were we less inured to war 
When our reapers swept the harvest 

From the field of red Dunbar ? 
Bring my horse, and blow the trumpet ! 

Call the riders of Fitz-James : 
Let Lord Jervis head the column ! 

Valiant chiefs of mighty names — 
Trusty Keppoch ! stout Glengarry ! 

Gallant Gordon ! wise Locheill ! — 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 217 

Bid the clansmen hold together, 

Fast and fell, and firm as steel. 
Elclio ! never look so gloomy — 

What avails a saddened brow ? 
Heart, man ! heart ! — We need it sorely^ 

Never half so much as now. 
Had we but a thousand troopers, 

Had we but a thousand more ! 
Noble Perth, I hear them coming ! — 

Hark ! the English cannons' roar. 
God ! how awful sounds that volley. 

Bellowing through the mist and rain ' 
Was not that the Highland slogan ? 

Let me hear that shout again ! 
Oh, for prophet eyes to witness 

How the desperate battle goes ! 
Cumberland ! I would not fear thee. 

Could my Camerons see their foes, 
Sound, I say, the charge at venture — 

'Tis not naked steel we fear 

Better perish in the melee 

Than be shot like driven deer ! 
10 



21 <S LAYS OF TFIE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

Hold ! the mist begins to scatter ! 

There in front 'tis rent asunder, 
And the cloudy bastion crumbles 

Underneath the deafening thunder. 
There I see the scarlet gleaming ! 

Now, Macdonald, — now or never ! — 
Wo is me, the clans are broken ! 

Father, thou art lost for ever ! 
Chief arid vassal, lord and yeoman. 

There they lie in heaps together, 
Smitten by the deadly volley, 

Eolled in blood upon the heather ; 
And the Hanoverian horsemen, 

Fiercely riding to and fro, 
Deal their murderous strokes at random- 

Ah, my God ! where am I now'^ 

Will that baleful vision never 
Vanish from my aching sight "? 

Must those scenes and sounds of terroi 
Haunt me still by day aftd night ? 



CHARLEis EDVVAKU AT VERSAILLES. 21S 

Yea ! the earth hath no oblivion 

For the noblest chance it gave. 
None, save in its latest refuge — 

Seek it only in the grave ! 
Love may die, and hatred slumber, 

And tneir memory will decay, 
As the watered garden recks not 

Of the drought of yesterday ; 
But the dream of power once broken, 

W hat shall give repose again 1 
What shall charm the serpent-furies 

Coiled around the maddenhig brain 1 
What kind draught can nature offer 

Strong enough to lull their sting '? 
Better to be born a peasant 

Than to live an exiled king ! 
Oh, these years of bitter anguish ! — 

What is life to such as me. 
With my very heart as palsied 

As a wasted cripple's knee ! 
Suppliant-like for alms depending 

On a false and foreign court ; 



220 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALfERH. 

Jostled by the flouting nobles, 

Half their pity, half their sport. 
Forced to hold a place in pageant, 

Like a royal prize of war. 
Walking with dejected features 

Close behind his victor's car ; 
Styled an equal — deemed a servant — 

Fed with hopes of future gain : 
Worse by far is fancied freedom 

Than the captive's clanking chain ! 
Ck)uld I change this gilded bondage 

Even for the dusky tower. 
Whence King James beheld his lady 

Sitting in the castle bower ; 
Birds around her sweetly singing, 

Fluttering on the kindled spray, 
And the comely garden glowing 

In the light of rosy May. 
Love descended to the window — 

Love removed the bolt and bar — 
Love was warder to the lovers 

From the dawn to even-star. 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 22) 

Wherefore, Love ! didst thou betray me 1 

Where is now the tender glance — 
Where the meaning looks once lavished 

By the dark-eyed maid of France 1 
Where the words of hope she whispered, 

When around my neck she threw 
That same scarf of broidered tissue, 

Bade me wear it and be true — 
Bade me send it as a token 

When my banner waved once more 
On the castled Keep of London, 

Where my fathers' waved before ? 
And I went and did not conquer — 

But 1 brought it back again — 
Brought it back from storm and battle — 

Brought it back without a stain ; 
And once more I knelt before her, 

And 1 laid it at. her feet. 
Saying, " Wilt thou own it, Princess 1 

There at least is no defeat !" 
Scornfully she looked upon me 

With a measured eye and cold — 



222 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

Scornfully she viewed the token, 

Though her fingers wrought the gold \ 
And she answered faintly flushing, 

" Hast thou kept it, then, so long ? 
Worthy matter for a minstrel 

To be told in knightly song ! 
Worthy of a bold Provencal, 

Pacing through the peaceful plain. 
Singing of his lady's favor, 

Boasting of her silken chain — 
Yet scarce worthy of a warrior 

Sent to wrestle for a crown. 
Is this all that thou hast brought me 

From thy fields of hign renown 1 
Is this all the trophy carried 

From the lands where thou hast been ? 
It was broidered by a Princess, 

Canst thou give it to a Queen 1" 



Woman's love is writ in water ! 
Woman's faith is traced on sandl- 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 223 

Backwards — backwards let me wander 

To the noble northern land : 
Let me feel the breezes blowing 

Fresh along the momi tain-side! 
Let me see the purple heather, 
' Let me hear the thmidering tide, 
Be it hoarse as Corrievreckan 

Spouting when the storm is high^ 
Give me but one hour of Scotland — 

Let me see it ere I die ! 
Oh ! my heart is sick and heavy — 

Southern gales are not for me ; 
Though the glens 'are white with winter, 

Place me there, and set me free. 
Give me back my trusty comrades — 

Give me back my Highland maid — 
Nowhere beats the heart so kindly 

As beneath the tartan plaid ! 
Flora ! w^hen thou wert beside me, 

In the wilds of far Kintail — 
When the cavern gave us shelter 

From the blinding sleet and hail — 



224 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

When we lurked within the thicket, 

And, beneath the waning moon, 
Saw the sentry's bayonet glimmer, 

Heard him chaunt his listless tune — 
When the howling storm o'ertook us, 

Drifting down the island's lee, 
And our crazy bark was M^hirling 

Like a nutshell on the sea — 
When the nights were dark and dreary 

And amidst the fern we lay. 
Faint and foodless, sore with travel, 

Waiting for the streaks of day ; 
When thou wert an angel to me, 

W^atching my exhausted sleep — 
Never didst thou hear me murmur — 

Couldst thou see how now I weep ! 
Bitter tears and sobs of anguish, 

Unavailing though they be. 
Oh! the brave — the brave and noble — 

That have died in vain for me ! 



NOTES TO "CHAHLES EDWAKD AT VEKSATLLES.' 



'^ Could I change this gilded bondage 
Even for tlte dusky tov-er 
Wlience King James beheld his lady 
Sitting in the castle bovier!^ — P. 220. 

James I. of Scotland, one of the most accomplished kings 
that ever sat upon a throne, is tlie person liere indicated. His 
history is a very strange and romantic one. He was son of 
Robert TIT., and immediate younger brother of that unhappy 
Duke of Rothesay, who was murdered at Falkland. His 
father, apprehensive of the designs and treachery of Albany, 
had determined to remove him, when a mere boy, for a season 
from Scotland ; and as France was then considered the best 
school for the education of one so important from his higli po- 
sition, it was resolved to send him thither, under the care of 
the Earl of Orkney and Fleming, of Cumbernauld. He ac- 
cordingly embarked at North Berwick, with little escort — as 
there was a truce for the time between England and Scotland, 
and they were under no apprehension of meeting with any 
vessels, save those of the former nation. Notwithstanding 
this, the ship which carried the Prince was captm-ed by an 
armed merchantman, and carried to London, where Henry IV., 
the usurping Bolingbroke, utterly regaidless of treaties, com 
mitted him and his attendants to the Tower. 
10* 



'226 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

" In vain," says Mr. Tytler, " did the guardians of the young 
Prince remonstrate against this cruelty, or present to Henry a 
letter from the King, his father, which, with much simplicity, 
recommended him to the kindness of the Englisli monarch, 
sliould he find it necessary to land in his dominions. In vain 
did they repiesent that the mission to France was perfectly 
pacific, and its only object the education of the Prince at the 
French court. Henry jnerely answered by a poor witticism, 
declaring that he himself knew the French language indiffer- 
ently well, and that his father could not have sent him to a 
better master. So "flagrant a breach of the law of nations, 
as the seizure and imprisonment of the heir-apparent, during 
the time of truce, would have called for the most violent 
remonstrances from any governm(#nt except that of Albany. 
But to this usurper of the supreme power, the capture of the 
Prince was the most grateful event which could have hap- 
pened ; and to detain him in captivity became, fiom this mo- 
ment, one of the principal objects of his future life: we are 
not to wonder, then, that the conduct of Henry not only 
drew forth no indignation from the goveinor, but was not 
even followed by any request that the Prince should be set at 
liberty. 

"The aged King, already worn out by infirinity, and now 
broken by disappointment and sorrow, did not long survive 
the captivity of his son. It is said the melancholy news w^ere 
brought him as he was sitting down to supper in his palace 
of Rotliesay, in Bute, and that tlie effect was such upon his 
affectionate but feeble spirit, tliat he drooped from that day 
forward, refused all sustenance, and died soon after of a broken 
heart." 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 227 

James was finally incarcerated in Windsor Castle, where he 
endured an imprisonment of nineteen years. Henry, though 
he liad not hesitated to commit a heinous breach of faith, was 
not so cruel as to neglect the education of his captive. The 
young king was supplied Avith the best masters ; and gradually 
became an adept in all the accomplishments of the age. He 
is a singular exception from tlie rule which maintains that 
monarclis are indifierent authors. As a poet, he is entitled to 
a very high rank indeed^being, 1 think, in point of sweetness 
and melody of verse, not much inferior to Chaucer. From the 
window of his chamber in the Tower, he had often seen a 
young lady, of great beauty and grace, walking in the gar 
den; and the admiration wliich at once possessed him soon 
ripened into loi'e. Tliis was Lady Jane Beaufort, daughter of 
the Earl of Somerset, a niece of Henry iV., and who after- 
wards became his queen. How he loved, and how he wooed 
her, is told in his own beautiful poem of " The King's Quhair," 
of which the f()lh)wing are a few stanzas: — 

" Now tliere was made, fast by the towris wall, 
A garden fair ; and in the corners set 
An arbour green, with wandis long and small 
Eailed about, and so with trees set 
Was all the place, and hawthorn hedges knet, 
That lyf was none walking there forbye. 
That might within scarce any wight espy. 

"So thick the boughis and the leavis greene 
Beshaded all the alleys that there were, 
And mids of every arbour might be seen 
The shai-pe, g?een, sweet juniper. 
Growing so fair, with branches here and there, 



228 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

That, as it seemed to a lyf without, 
The boiighis spread the arbour all about. 

"And on the smalle greene twistis sat 
The little sweete nightingale, and sung 
So loud and clear the hytnnis consecrat 
Of lovis use, now soft, now loud among, 
That all the gardens and the wallis rung 
Right of their song. 

" And therewith cast I down mine eyes again, 
Whereat I saw, walking under the tower. 
Full secretly, now comen here to plain. 
The fairest or the freshest younge flower 
That e'er I saw, methought, before that hour : 
For which sudden abate, anon astart 
The blood of all my body to my heart. 

"And though I stood abasit for a lite. 
No wonder was ; for why ? my wittis all 
Were so o'ercome with pleasance and delight- 
Only through letting of my eyen fall — 
That suddenly my heart became her thrall 
For ever of free will, for of menace 
There was no token in her sweete face." 



" Wherefore, love ! didst thou betray me ? 
Where is notv the tender glance — 
Where the yneaning looks once lavished 
By the dark-eyed Maid of France T — P. 221. 

There appears to be no doubt that Prince Charles was 
deeply attached to one of the princesses of the royal family 



CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES. 229 

Of* France. In the interesting collection called " Jacobite Me- 
moirs," compiled by Mr. Chambers from the voluminous MSS. 
of Bishop Forbes, we find the following passage from the nar- 
rative of Donald Macleod, who acted as a guide to the wan- 
derer whilst traversing the Hebrides : — " When Donald was 
asked, if ever the Prince used to give any particular toast, 
whon they were taking a cup of cold water, or the like ; he 
said that the Prince very often drank to the Black Eye — ^by 
which, said Donald, he meant the second daughter of France, 
and I never heard him name any particular health but that 
alono. "When he spoke of that lady — which he did frequent- 
Iv — ^he appeared to be more than ordinarily well pleased." 



THE 



OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER. 



The " gentle Lochiell " may be considered as the 
pattern of a Highland Chief. Others who headed 
the insurrection may have been actuated by motives 
of personal ambition, and by a desire for aggrandise- 
ment ; but no such charge can be made against the 
generous and devoted Cameron. He was, as we have 
already seen, the first who attempted to dissuade the 
Prince from embarking in an enterprise which he 
conscientiously believed to be desperate ; but, having 
failed in doing so, he nobly stood firm to the cause 
which his conscience vindicated as just, and cheer- 



232 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

fully iniperilled liis life, and sacrificed his fortune, 
at the bidding of his master. There was no one, 
even among those who espoused the other side, in 
Scotland, who did not commiserate the misfortunes 
of this truly excellent man, whose humanity was 
not less conspicuous than his yalor throughou": the 
civil war, and who died in exile of a broken heart. 
Perhaps the best type of the Lowland Cavalier of 
that period, may be found in the person of Alexander 
Forbes, Lord Pitsligo, a nobleman whose conscien- 
tious views impelled him to take a different side 
from that adopted by the greater part of his house 
and name. Lord Porbes, the head of this very 
ancient and honorable family, was one of the first 
Scottish noblemen who declared for King William. 
Lord Pitsligo, on the contrary, having been educated 
abroad, and early introduced to the circle at Saint 
Germains, conceived a deep personal attachment to 
the members of the exiled line. He was anything 
but an enthusiast, as his philosophical and religious 
writings, well worthy of a perusal, will show. He 
was the intimate friend of Fenelon, and throughout 



THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER. 233 

his whole life was remarkable rather for his piety 
and virtue, than for keenness in political dispute. - 

After his return ^rom France, Lord Pitsligo took 
his seat in the Scottish Parliament, and his parlia- 
mentary career has thus been characterised by a for- 
mer writer.* " Here it is no discredit either to his 
head or heart to say, that obliged to become a mem- 
ber of one of the contending factions of the time, he 
adopted that which had for its object the indepen- 
dence of Scotland, and restoration of the ancient race 
of raonarchs. The advantages which were in future 
to arise from the great measure of a national union 
were so hidden by the mists of prejudice, that it 
cannot be wondered at if Lord Pitsligo, like many 
a high-spirited man, saw nothing but disgrace in 
a measure forced on by such corrupt means, and 
calling in its commencement for such mortifying 
national sacrifices. The English nation, indeed, 
with a narrow, yet not unnatural, view of their own 
'nterest, took such pains to encumber and restrict 

* See Blackwood'' s Magazine for May, 1829, — Article, " LorJ 
Pitsligo." 



234 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

the Scottish commercial privileges, that it was not 
tin the best part of a century after the event that 
the inestimable fruits of the treaty began to be felt 
and known. This distant period Lord Pitsligo could 
not foresee. He beheld his countrymen, like the 
Israelites of yore, led into the desert; but his 
merely human eye could not foresee that, after the 
extinction of a whole race — after a longer pilgri- 
mage than that of the followers of Moses — the 
Scottish people should at length arrive at that 
promised land, of which the favorers of the Union 
held forth so gay a prospect. 

"Looking upon the Act of Settlement of the 
Crown, and the Act of Abjuration, as unlawful, Lord 
Pitsligo retired to his house in the country, and 
threw up attendance on Parliament. Upon the death 
of Queen Anne, he joined himself in arms with a gen- 
eral insurrection of the Highlanders and Jacobites, 
headed by his friend and relative the Earl of Mar. 

"Mar, a versatile statesman and an able intriguer, 
had consulted his ambition rather than his talents 
when he assumed the command of such an enterprise 



THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER. 235 

He sank beneath the far superior genius of the 
Diike of Argyle ; and, after the undecisive battle of 
Sheriffmuir, the confederacy which he had formed 
but- was unable to direct, dissolved like a snowball, 
and the nobles concerned in It were fain to fly abroad. 
This exile was Lord Pitsligo's fate for five or six 
year^. Part of the time he spent at the Court, if it 
can be called so, of the old Chevalier de Saint 
George, where existed all the petty feuds, chicanery, 
and crooked intrigues which subsist in a real scene 
of the same character, although the objects of the 
ambition which prompts such arts had no existence. 
Men seemed to play at being courtiers in that 
illusory court, as children play at being soldiers." 

It would appear that Lord Pitsligo was not attaint- 
ed for his share in Mar's rebellion. He returned 
to Scotland in 1720, and resided at his castle in 
Aberdeenshire, not mingling in public affairs, but 
gaining through his charity, kindness, and benevo- 
lence, the respect and affection of all around him. 
He was sixty-seven years of age when Charles 
Edward landed in Scotland Th-e. district in which 



236 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

the estates of Lord Pitsligo lay was essentially 
Jacobite, and the young cavaliers only waited for a 
fitting leader to take up arms in the cause. Accord- 
ing to Mr. Home, his example was decisive of the 
movement of his neighbors : " So when he who 
was so wise and prudent declared his purpose of 
joining Charles, most of the gentlemen in that part 
of the country who favored the Pretender's cause, 
put themselves under his command, thinking they 
could not follow a better or safer guide than Lord 
Pitsligo." His Lordship's own account of the 
motives which urged him on is peculiar : — " I was 
grown a little old, and the fear of ridicule stuck to 
me pretty much. I have mentioned the weightier 
considerations of a family, which would make the 
censure still the greater, and set the more tongues 
agoing. But we are pushed on, I know not how : 
I thought — I weighed — and I weighed again. If 
there was any enthusiasm in it, it was of the coldest 
kind ; and there was as little remorse when the 
affair miscarried, as there was eagerness at the 
beginning." 



THE no SCOTTISH CAVALIER. 2o7 

The writer whom I have already quoted goes on 
to say — "To those friends who recalled his misfor- 
tunes of 1715, he replied gaily, ' Did you ever 
know me absent at the second day of a wedding f 
meaning, I suppose, that having once contracted an 
engagement, he did not feel entitled to quit it while 
the contest subsisted. Being invited by the gentle- 
men of the district to put himself at their head, and 
having surmounted his own desires, he had made a 
farewell visit at a neighbor's house, where a little 
boy, a child of the family, brought out a stool to 
assist the old nobleman in remounting his horse. 
' My little fellow,' said Lord Pitsligo, ' this is the 
severest rebuke I have yet received, for presuming 
to go on such an expedition.' 

"The die was however cast, and Lord Pitsligo 
went to meet his friends at the rendezvous they had 
appointed in Aberdeen. They formed a body of 
svell-armed cavalry, gentlemen and their servants, to 
the number of a hundred men. When they were 
drawn up in readiness to conimence the expedition, 
the venerable nobleman their leader moved to their 



238 LAYS OF TFIE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

front, lifted his hat, and, looking up to heaven, pro- 
nounced, with a solemn voice, the awful appeal, — 
'OLord, thou knowest that our cause is just!' 
then added the signal for departure — 'March, 
gentlemen !' 

"Lord Pitsligo, with his followers, found Charles 
at Edinburgh, on 8th October, 1745, a few days after 
the Highlanders' victory at Preston. Their arrival 
was hailed with enthusiasm, not only on account of 
the timely reinforcements, but more especially from 
the high character of their leader. Hamilton of 
Bangour, in an animated and eloquent eulogium 
upon Pitsligo, states that nothing could have fallen 
out more fortunately for the Prince than his joining 
them did — for it seemed as if religion, virtue, and 
justice w^ere entering his camp, under the appear- 
ance of this venerable old man ; and what would 
nave given sanction to a cause of the most dubious 
right, could not fail to render sacred the very best." 

Although so far advanced in years, he remained 
in arms during the whole campaign, and was treated 
with almost filial tenderness by the Prince. After 



THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER. 2o'J 

CiiUoden he became, like many more, a fugitive and 
an outlaw; but he succeeded, like the Baron of 
Bradwardine, in finding a shelter upon the skirts of 
his own estate. Disguised as a mendicant, his 
secret was faithfully kept hy the tenantry ; and al- 
though it was more than surmised by the soldiers 
that he was larking somewhere in the neighborhood, 
they never were able to detect him. On one occa- 
sion he actually guided a party to a cave on the 
sea-shore, amidst the rough rocks of Buchan, where 
it was rumored that he was lying in concealment ; 
and on another, when overtaken by his asthma, and 
utterly unable to escape from an approaching patrol 
of soldiers, he sat down by the wayside, and acted 
his assumed character so well, that a good-natured 
fellow not only gave him alms, but condoled with 
him on the violence of his complaint. 

For ten years he remained concealed, but in the 
mean time both title and estate were forfeited b\ 
attainder. His last escape was so very remarkable, 
that I may be pardoned for giving it in the language 
of the author of his memoirs. 



240 LAYS OB^ THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

" In March, 1756, and of course long after ail 
apprehension of a search had ceased, information 
having been given to the commanding officer at 
Fraserburgh, that Lord Pitsligo was at that moment 
at the house of Auchiries, it was acted upon with so 
much promptness and secrecy that the search must 
have proved successful but for a very singular 
occurrence. Mrs. Sophia Donaldson, a lady who 
lived much with the family, repeatedly dreamt, on 
that particular night, that the house was surrounded 
by soldiers. Her mind became so haunted with the 
idea, that she got out of bed, and was walking 
through the room in hopes of giving a different 
current to her thoughts before she lay down again ; 
when, day beginning to dawn, she accidentally looked 
out at the window as she passed it in traversing the 
room, and was astonished at actually observing the 
figures of soldiers among some trees near the house. 
So completely had all idea of a search been by thac 
time laid asleep, that she supposed they had come 
to steal poultry — Jacobite poultry -yards affording a 
safe object of pillage for the English soldiers in those 



THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER. 241 

days. Mrs. Sophia was proceeding to rouse the 
servants, when her sister having awaked, and inquir- 
ing what was the matter, and being told of soldiers 
uear the house, exclaimed in great alarm, that she 
feared they wanted something more than hens. She 
begged Mrs. Sophia to look out at a ^vindow on the 
other side of the house, when not only were soldiers 
seen in that direction, but also an officer giving 
instruction by signal, and frequently putting his 
fingers to his lips, as if enjoining silence. There 
was now no time to be lost in rousing the family, 
and all the haste that could be made was scarcely 
.sufficient to hurry the venerable man from his bed 
into a small recess, behind the wainscot of an adjoin- 
ing room, which was concealed by a bed, m which a 
lady. Miss Gordon of Towie, who was there on a 
visit, lay, before the soldiers obtained admission. A 
most minute search took place. The room in whicn 
Lord Pitsligo was concealed did not escape. Miss 
Gordon's bed was carefully examined, and she was 
obliged to suffer the rude scrutiny of one of the 

party, by feeling her chin, to ascertain that it was 
M 



242 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

not a man in a lady's night-dress. Before the 
soldiers had finished their examination in this room, 
the confinement and anxiety increased Lord Pit- 
sligo's asthma so much, and his breathing became 
so loud, that it cost Miss Gordon, lying in bed, 
much and violent coughing, which she counterfeited, 
in Older to prevent the high breathings behind the 
■wainscot from being heard. It may be easily con- 
ceived what agony she would suffer, lest by over- 
doing her part, she should increase suspicion, and in 
fact lead to a discovery. The ruse was fortunately 
successful. On the search through the house being 
given over, Lord Pitsligo was hastily taken from his 
confined situation, and again replaced in bed ; and 
as soon as he was able to speak, his accustomed 
kindness of heart made him say to his servant — 
'James, go and see that these poor fellows get 
some breakfast, and a drink of warm ale, for 
this is a cold morning; they are only doing 
their duty, and cannot bear me any ill-will.' 
When the family were felicitating each other on 
his escape, he pleasantly observed, — ' A poor 



THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER. 243 

prize, had they obtained it — an old dying 
man !" 

This was the last attempt made on the part of 
Government to seize on the persons of any of the 
surviving insurgents. Three years before, Dr. Ar 
(?hibald Cameron, a brother of Locheill, having clan- 
destinely revisited Scotland, was arrested, tried, and 
executed for high treason at Tyburn. The Govern- 
ment was generally blamed for this act of severity, 
which was considered rather to have been dictated 
by revenge than required for the public safety. It 
is, however, probable that they might have had 
secret information of certain negotiations which were 
still conducted in the Highlands by the agents of the 
Stuart family, and that they considered it necessary, 
by one terrible example, to overawe the insurrec- 
tionary spirit. This I believe to have been the real 
motive of an execution which otherwise could not 
have been palliated ; and, in the case of Lord Pitsligo, 
it is quite possible that the zeal of a part'san may 
have led him to take a step which would not have 
been approved of by the Ministry. Aftei the lapse 



244 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

of SO many years, and after so many scenes of ju- 
dicial bloodshed, the nation would have turned in 
disgust from the spectacle of an old man, whose 
private life was not only blameless, but exemplary, 
dragged to the scaffold, and forced to lay down his 
head in expiation of a doubtful crime : and this 
view derives corroboration from the fact that, shortly 
afterwards, Lord Pitsligo was tacitly permitted to 
return to the society of his friends, without further 
notice or persecution. 

- Dr. King, the Principal of St. Mary's Hall, Oxford. 
has borne the following testimony to the charactei 
of Lord Pitsligo. " Whoever is so happy, either 
from his natural disposition, or his good judgment, 
constantly to observe St. Paul's precept, ' to speak 
evil of no one' will certainly acquire the love and 
esteem of the whole community of which he is a 
member. But such a man is the vara avis in ten-is ; 
and, among all my acquaintance, I have known only 
one person to whom I can with truth assign this 
character. The person I mean is the present Lord 
Pitsligo of Scotland. I not only never heard this 



THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER. ^ 245 

gentleman speak an ill word of any man living, but 
I always observed him ready to defend any other 
person who was ill spoken of in his company. If 
the person accused were of his acquaintance, my 
Lord Pitsligo would always find something good 
to say of him as a counterpoise. If he were 
a stranger, and quite unknown to him, my Lord 
would urge in his defence the general corruption of 
manners, and the frailties and infirmities of human 
nature. 

" It is no wonder that such an excellent man, 
who, besides, is a polite scholar, and has many other 
great and good qualities, should be universally 
admired and beloved — insomuch, that I persuade 
myself he has not one enemy in the world. At 
least, to this general esteem and affection for his 
person, his preservation must be owing; for since 
his attainder he has never removed far from his 
own house, protected by men of different principles, 
and unsought for and unmolested by Government." 
To which eulogy it might be added, by those who 
have the good fortune to know his representatives, 



24G . LAVS OF T[1E, SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

that the virtues here acknowledged seem hereditary 
in the family of Pitsligo. 

The venerable old nobleman was permitted to 
remain without molestation at the residence of his 
son, during the latter years of an existence pro- 
tracted to the extreme verge of human life. And 
so, says the author of his memoirs, "In this happy 
frame of mind, — calm and full of hope, — the saintly 
man continued to the last, with his reason un- 
clouded, able to study his favorite volume, enjoy- 
ing the comforts of friendship, and delighting in 
the consolations of religion, till he gently 'fell 
asleep in Jesus.' He died on the 21st of December, 
1762, in the eighty-fifth year of his age; and to 
his surviving friends the recollection of the misfor- 
tunes which had accompanied him through his 
long life was painfully awakened even in the closing 
scene of his mortal career — as his son had the n^or- 
tification to be indebted. to a stranger, now the 
proprietor of his ancient inheritance by purchase 
from the Crown, for permission to lay his 
lather's honored remains in the vault which 



THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER. 247 

contained the ashes of his family for many geiie- 
rations." 

Such a character as this is well worthy of remem- 
brance ; and Lord Pitsligo has just title to be called 
the last of the old Scottish cavaliers. I trust that, 
in adapting the words of the following little ballad 
to a well-knowTi English air, I haye committed nc 
unpardonable larceny. 



THE 



0]J3 SCOTTISH CAVALIET^ 



Come listen to another song, 

Should make, your heart beat highj 
Bring crimson to your forehead. 

And the lustre to your eye ; — 
It is a song of olden time, 

Of days long since gone by. 
And of a Baron stout and bold 

A s e'er wore sword on thigh ! 

Like a brave old Scottish cavalie: 

All of the olden time ! 
11* 



250 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

II. 

He kept his castle in the north, 

Hard by the thundering Spey ; 
And a thousand vassals dwelt around. 

All of his kindred they. 
And not a man of all that clan 

Had ever ceased to pray 
For tne Royal race they loved so well, 

Though exiled far away 

From the steadfast Scottish cavaliei-s. 
All of the olden time ! 

III. 
His father drew the righteous sword 

For Scotland and her claims, 
Among the loyal gentlemen 

And chiefs of ancient names 
Who swore to fight or fall beneath 

The standard of King James, 
And died at Killiecrankie Pass 
With the glory of the Graemes ; 
Like a true old Scottish cavalier 
All of the olden time ! 



I HE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALffih. 251 

IV. 

He never owned the foreign rule, 

No master he obeyed, 
But kept his clan in peace at home, 

From foray and from raid ; 
And when they asked him for his oath, 

He touched his glittering blade, 
And pointed to his bonnet blue, 

Tliat bore the white cockade : 
Like a leal old Scottish cavalier, 
All of the olden time ! 

V. 

At length the news ran through the land — 

The Prince had come again.! 
That night the fiery cross was sped 

O'er mountain and through glen ; 
And our old Baron rose in might. 

Like a lion from his den. 
And rode away across the hills 

To Charlie and his men. 

With the valiant Scottish cavaliers, 
All of the olden time ! 



252 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS. 

VI. 

He was the first that bent the knee 

When the Standard waved abroad> 
He was the first that charged the foe 

On Preston's bloody sod ; 
And ever, in the van of fight, 

The foremost still he trod, 
Until on bleak Ciilloden's heath, 

He gave his soul to God, 

Like a good old Scottish cavalier 
All of the olden time ! 

VII. 

Oh ! never shall we know again 

A heart so stout and true — 
The olden times have passed away. 

And weary are the new : 
The fair White Rose has faded 

From the garden where it grew. 
And no fond tears, save those of heaven, 

The glorious bed bedew 

Of the last old Scottish cavalier, 
All of the olden time ! 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 



^4 



BLIND OLD MILTON. 



Place me once more, my daughter, where the sun 
May shine upon my old and time-worn head, 
For the last time, perchance. My race is run ; 
And soon amidst the ev6r-silent dead 
I must repose, it may be, half forgot. 
Yes ! I have broke the hard and bitter bread 
For many a year, with those who trembled not 
To buckle on their armor for the fight. 
And set themselves against the tyrant's lot ; 
And I have never bowed me to his might, 
Nor knelt before him — for I bear within 
My heart the sternest consciousness of rignt, 



256 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

And that perpetual hate of gilded sin 

Which made me what I am ; and though the stain 

Of poverty he on rae, yet I win 

More honor by it, than the blinded train 

Who hug their wilHng servitude, and bow 

Unto the weakest and the most profane. 

Therefore, with unencumbered soul I go 

Before the footstool of my Makei-, where 

I hope to stand as undebased as now ! 

Child ! is the sun abroad ? I feel my hair 
Borne up and wafted by the gentle wind, 
I feel the odors that perfume the air, 
And hear the rustling of the leaves behind. 
AVithin my heart I picture them, and then 
I almost can forget that I am blind, 
And old, and hated by my fellow-men. 
Yet would I fain once more behold the grace 
Of nature ere I die, and gaze again 
Upon her living and rejoicing face — 
Fain would I see thy countenance, my child, 
My comforter ! I feel thy dear embrace — 



BLIND OLD MILTON. 257 

J hear thy voice, so niusica] and mild, 

The patient sole interpreter, by whom 

So many years of sadness are beguiled ; 

For it hath made my small and scanty room 

I^eopled with glowing visions of the past. 

But I will calmly bend me to my doom, 

And wait the hour which is approaching fast. 

When triple light shall stream upon mine eyes, 

And heaven itself be opened up at last 

To him who dared foretell its mysteries. 

I have had visions in this drear eclipse 

Of outward consciousness, and clomb the skies, 

Striving to utter with my earthly lips 

What the diviner soul had half divined, 

Even as the Saint in his Apocalypse 

Who saw the inmost glory, where enshrined 

Sat He who fashioned glory. This hath driven 

All outward strife and tumult from my mind, 

And humbled me, until I have forgiven 

My bitter enemies, and only seek 

To find the straight and narrow path to heaven. 



2 33 MISCEIT.ANEOUS POEMS. 

Yet I am weak — oh ! how entirely weak, 
For one who may not love nor suffer more ! 
Sometimes unbidden tears will wet my cheek, 
And my heart bound as keenly as of yore, 
Responsive to a voice, now hushed to rest, 
Which made the beautiful Italian shore, 
In all its pomp of summer vineyards drest, 
An Eden and a Paradise to me. 
Do the sweet breezes from the balmy west 
Still murmur through thy groves, Parthenope, 
hi search of odors from the orange bowers 1 
Still, on thy slopes of verdure, does the bee 
Cull her rare honey from the virgin flowers? 
And Philomel her plaintive chaunt prolong 
'Neath skies more calm and more serene than ours, 
I\faking the summer one perpetual song ? 
Art thou the same as when in manhood's pride 
[ walked in joy thy grassy meads among. 
With that fair youthful vision by my side, 
[n whose bright eyes I looked — and not in vain? 
O my adored angel ! O my bride I 



m.iM) ()i,n MiLTOx. 259 

Despite of years, and wo, and Avant, and pain. 
My soul yearns back towards thee, and f seeni 
To wander wnth thee, hand in hand, again, 
By the bright margin of that flowing stream. 
I hear again thy voice, more silver-sweet 
Than fancied music floating in a dream, 
Possess my being ; from afar I greet 
The waving of thy garments in the glade. 
And the light rustling of thy fairy feet — 
What time as one half eager, half afraid. 
Love's burning secret faltered on my tongue. 
And tremulous looks and broken words betrayed 
The secret of the heai't from whence they sprung. 
Ah me ! the earth that rendered thee to heaven 
Gave up an angel beautiful and young, 
Spotless and pure as snow when freshly driven ; 
A bright Aurora for the starry sphere 
Where all is love, and even life forgiven. 
Bride of immortal beauty— -ever dear! 
Dost thou await me in thy blest abode ! 
While I, Tithonus-like, must linger here, 
And count each step along the rugged road ; 



260 MISCKLl.ANEOLS HUEMS. 



A phantom, tottering to a long-made grave. 
And eager to lay down my weary load ! 



I who was fancy's lord, am fancy's slave. 
Like the low murmurs of the Indian shell 
Ta'en from its coral bed beneath the wave. 
Which, unforgetful of the ocean's swell, 
Retains within its mystic urn the hum 
Heard in the sea-grots where the Nereids dwell — 
Old thoughts still haunt me — unawares they come 
Between me and my rest, nor can T make 
Those aged visitors of sorrow dumb. 
Oh, yet awhile, my feeble soul, awake ! 
Nor wander back with sullen steps again ; 
For neither pleasant pastime canst thou take 
In such a journey, nor endure the pain. 
The phantoms of the past are dead for thee ; 
So let them ever uninvoked remain. 
And be thou calm, till death shall set thee free. 
Thy flowers of hope expanded lonar ago, 
Long since their blossoms withered on the; tree : 



BLIND OD MTLTON. *261 

No second spring can come to make them blow, 
But in the silent winter of the grave 
They lie with blighted love and buried wo. 



I did not waste the gifts which nature gave, 
Nor slothful lay in the Circean bower ; 
Nor did I yield myself the willing slave 
Of lust for pride, for riches, or for power. 
No ! in my heart a nobler spirit dwelt ; 
For constant was my faith in manhood's dower ; 
Man — made in God's own image — and I felt 
How of our own accord we courted shame, 
Until to idols like ourselves we knelt, 
And so renounced the gi-eat and glorious claim 
Of freedom, our immortal heritage. 
I saw how bigotry, with spiteful aim, 
Smote at the searching eyesight of the sage ; 
How Error stole behind the steps of Truth, 
And cast delusion on the sacred page. 
So, as a champion, even in early youth 
I waged my 1 tattle with a purpose keen : 



2<>2 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Nor feared the hand of terror, nor the tooth 
Of serpent jealousy. And I have been 
With starry Galileo in his cell — 
That wise magician with the brow serene 
Who fathomed space ; and I have seen him «-ell 
The wonders of the planetary sphere, 
And trace the ramparts of heaven's citadel 
On the cold flag-stones of his dungeon drear. 
And I have walked with Hampden and with Vane- 
Names once so gracious to an English ear — 
In days that never may return again. 
My voice, though not the loudest, hath been heard 
Whenever freedom raised her cry of pain, 
And the faint eflbrt of the humble bard 
Hath roused up thousands from their lethargy, 
To speak in words of thunder. W^hat ]-eward 
Was mine, or theirs 1 It matters not ; for I 
Am but a leaf cast on the whirling tide, 
Without a hope or wish, except to die. 
But truth, asserted once, must still abide, 
Unquenchalile, as are those fiery springs 
Which day and night gush from the mountain-side, 



ni.TND OLD MII.TON*. 2C»3 

Perpetual meteors girt with lambent wings, 
Which the wild tempest tosses to and fro, 
But cannot conquer with the force it brings. 



Yet 1, who ever felt another's wo 
More keenly than my own untold distress; 
I, who have battled with the common foe, 
And broke for years the bread of bitterness ; 
Who never yet abandoned or betrayed 
The trust vouchsafed me, nor have ceased to bless 
Am left alone to wither in the shade. 
A weak old man, deserted by his kind — 
Whom none will comfort in his age, nor aid ! 



Oh, let me not repine ! A quiet mind, 
Conscious and upright, needs no other stay ; 
Nor can I grieve for what T leave behind. 
In the rich promisee of eternal day. 
Henceforth to me the world is dead and gone, 
Its thorns unfelt, its roses cast away : 



^t)4 MISCELLANKOl'S POEMS. 

And the old pilgrim, weary and alone, 
Bowed down with travel, at his Master's gate 
Now sits, his task of life-long labor done, 
Thankful for rest, although it comes so late, 
After sore journey through this world of sin, 
In hope, and prayer, and wistfulness to wait, 
Until the door shall ope, and let him in. 



HERMOTTMUS 



Hermotimus, the hero of this ballad, was a phi- 
losopher, or rather a prophet, of Clazomenee, who 
possessed the fiaculty, now claimed by the animal- 
magnetists, of effecting a voluntary separation be- 
tween his soul and body; for the former couJd 
wander to any part of the universe, and even hold 
intercourse with supernatural beings, whilst the 
senseless frame remained at home. Hermotimus, 
however, was not insensible to the risk attendant 
upon this disunion ; since, before attempting any of 
these aerjal flights, he took the precaution to warn 

his wife, lest, ere the return of his soul, the body 
12 



266 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



should be rendered an unfit or useless receptacle. 
This accident, which he so much dreaded, at length 
occurred ; for the lady, wearied out hy a succession 
of trances, each of longer duration than the preced- 
ing, one day committed his body to the flames, and 
thus effectuaiJ} put stop to such unconnubial con- 
duct. He received divine honors at Clazomenae, 
but must nevertheless remain as a terrible example 
and warning to all husbands w^ho carry their scien- 
tific or spiritual pursuits so far as to neglect their 
duty to their wives. 

it is somewhat curious that Hermotimus is not 
the only person (putting the disciples of Mesmer and 
Dupotet altogether out of the question) who has 
possessed this miraculous power. Another and 
much later instance is recx>vd?d by Dr. George 
Cheyne, in his work entitled The English Malady^ 
or a Treatise on Nervous Diseases, as having come 
under his own observation; and as this case is 
exactly similar to that of a Prophet, it may amuse 
the reader to see how far an ancient fable may be 
illustrated, and in part explained, by the records of 



HERMOTIMUS. 267 

modem science. Dr. Cheyne's patient was pro- 
bably cataleptic; but the worthy physician must 
be allowed to tell his own story. 

" Colonel Townsend, a gentleman of honor and 
integrily, had for many years been afflicted with a 
nephritic complaint. His illness increasing, and his 
strength decaying, he came from Bristol to Bath in 
a litter, in autumn, and lay at the Bell Inn. Dr. 
Baynard and I were called to him, and attended him 
twice a-day; but his vomitings continuing still 
incessant and obstinate against all remedies, we 
despaired of his recovery. While he was in this 
condition, he sent for us one morning; we waited 
on him with Mr. Skrine, his apothecary. We found 
his senses clear, and his mind calm : his nurse and 
several servants were about him. He told us he 
had sent for us to give him an account of an odd 
sensation he had for some time observed and felt in 
himself; which was, that by composing himself, he 
could die or expire when he ^;Z^a9^c/; and yet by an 
effort, or somehow, he could come to life again, 
which he had sometimes tried before he sent for us 



268 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

We heard this with surprise ; but, as it was not to 
be accounted for upon common principles, we could 
hardly believe the fact as he related it, much less 
give any account of it ; unless he should please to 
make the experiment before us, which we were un- 
willing he should do, lest, in his weak condition, he 
might carry it too far. He continued to talk very 
distinctly and sensibly above a quarter ^f an hour 
about this surprising sensation, and insisted so much 
on our seeing the trial made, that we were at last 
forced to comply. We all three felt his pulse first 
— it was distinct though small and thready, and his 
heart had its usual beating. He composed himself 
on his back, and lay m a still posture for some time : 
while I held his right hand. Dr. Baynard laid his 
hand on his heart, and Mr. Skrine held a clean look- 
ing-glass to his mouth. I found his pulse sink gra- 
dually, till at last I could not find any by the most 
exact and nice touch. Dr. Baynard could not feel 
the least motion in his heart, nor Mr. Skrine the 
least soil of breath on the bright mirror he held to 
his mouth ; then each of us by turns examined his 



HERMOTIMPS. 26P 

arm, heart, and breath, but could not, by the nicest 
scrutiny discover the least symptom of life in him. 
We reasoned a long time about this odd appearance 
as well as we could, and all of us judging it inex- 
plicable and unaccountable ; and, finding he still 
continued in that condition, we began to conclude 
that he had indeed carried the experiment too far ; 
and, at last were satisfied he was actually dead, and 
were just ready to leave him. This continued 
about half an hour. As we were going away, we 
observed some motion about the body ; and, upon 
examination, found his pulse and the motion of his 
heart gradually returning. He began to bi-eathe 
gently and speak softly. We were all astonished 
to the last degree at this unexpected change ; and, 
after some further conversation with him, and 
among ourselves, went away fully satisfied as to all 
the particulars of this fact, but confounded and 
puzzled, and not able to form any rational scheme 
that might account for it." » 



HERMOTIMUis 



" Wilt not lay thee down in quiet slumber 1 

Weary dost thou seem, and ill at rest ; 
Sleep will bring thee dreams in starry number- 
Let him come to thee and be thy guest. 
Midnight now is^pasl; — 
Husband ! come at last — 
Lay thy th rubbing head upon my breast." 



HERMOTIMUS. '^7 1 



" Weary am I, but my soul is waking ; 

Fain I'd lay me gently by thy side, 
But my spirit then, its home forsaking, 

Thro' the realms of space would wander wid( 
Everything forgot, 
What would be thy lot, 
If 1 came not back to thee, my bride ! 



ni. 



" Music, like the lute of young Apollo, 
Vibrates even now within mine ear ; 
Soft and silver voices bid me follow — 
iLct my soul is dull and will not hear. 
Waking it will stay : 
Let me watch till day — 
Fainter will they come and disappear. 



^72 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



IV. 



" Speak not thus to me, my own — my dearest ? 

These are but the phantoms of thy brain ; 
Nothing can befall thee which thou fearest, 
Thou shalt wake to love and life again. 
Were thy sleep thy last, 
I would hold thee fast — 
Thou shouldst strive against me but in vain. 



V. 



*' Eros will protect us, and will hover, 

Guardian-like, above thee all the night, 
Jealous of thee as of some fond lover 
Chiding back the rosy-fingered light — 
He will be thine aid : 
Canst thou feel afraid 
Wher his torch above us burneth bright 1 



HERMOTJMUS. 273 



" Lo ! the cressets of the night a^e waning- 

Old Orion hastens from the sky ; 
Only thou of all things art remaining^ 
Unrefreshed by slumber — thou and I. 
Sound and sense are still, 
Even the distant rill , 
Murmurs fainter now, and languidly. 



yn. 



" Come and rest thee, husband !" — And no longer 

Could the young man that fond call resist : 

Vainly was he warned, for love was stronger. 

Warmly did he press her to hih breast; 

Warmly met she his ; 

Kiss succeeded kiss, 

Till their eyelids closed with sleep oppressed. 
12* 



274 



ITSCKLLANEOUS POEMS. 



Soon Aurora left her early pillow, 

And the heavens grew rosy-rich and rare ; 
Laughed the dewy plain and glassy billow, 
For the Golden God himself was there; 
And the vapor-screen 
Rose the hills between. 
Steaming up, like incense, in the aii\ 



IX. 



O'er her husband sat lone bending — 

Marble-like and marble-hued he lay ; 
Underneath her raven locks descending. 
Paler seemed his face and ashen gray ; 
And so white his brow, 
White and cold as snow — 
"Husband !— Gods ! his soul hath passed away !" 



HERM0TIMU8. 275 



Raise ye up the pile vrith gloomy shado^y — 

Heap it with the mournful cypress-bough ! — 
And they raised the pile upon the meadow, 
. And they heaped the mournful cypress too; 
And they laid the dead 
On his funeral bed, 
And they kindled up the flames below. 



XI. 



Night agam was come ; but oh, how lonely 

To the mourner did that night appear ! 
Peace nor rest it brought, but sorrow only, 
Vain repinings and unwonted fear. 
Dimly burned the lamp — 
Chill the air and damp — 
And the winds without were moaning drear. 



276 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 



XIJ. 



Hush ! a voice in solemn whispers speaking, 

Breaks within the twilight of the room , 
And lone, loud and wildly shrieking, 
Starts and gazes through the ghastly gloom. 
Nothing sees she there — 
All is empty air, 
All is empty as a rifled tomb. 



XIII. 



Once again the voice beside her sounded, 

Low, and faint, and solemn was its tone- — 
" Nor by form nor shade am I surrounded, 
Fleshly home and dwelling have I none. 
They are passed away — 
Wo is me ! to-day 
Hath robbed me of myself, and made me lone. 



HERMOTIMUS. 277 



XIV. 



" Vainly were the words of parting spoken ; 

Evermore must Charon turn from me. 
Still my thread of life remains unbroken, 
And unbroken ever it must be ; 
Only they may rest 
Whom the Fates' behest 
From their mortal mansion setteth free. 



XV. 



" I have seen the robes of Hermes glisten — 

Seen him wave afar his serpent- wand ; 
But to me the Herald would not listen — 
When the dead swept by at his command. 
Not with that pale crew 
Durst I venture too — 
Ever shut for me the quiet land. 



278 



MlSCELJ.ANEl)LS I'OEMS. 



XVI. 



" Day and night before the dreary portal, 

Phantom-shapes, the guards of Hades, lie 
None of heavenly kmd, nor yet of mortal, 
May unchallenged pass the warders by. 
None that path may go, 
If he cannot show 
His last passport to eterni.y. 



XVII. 

" Cruel was the spirit-power thou gavest — 

Fatal, Oh Apollo, was thy love ! 
Pythian ! Archei- ! brighest god and bravest. 
Hear, oh hear me from thy throne above ! 
Let me not, I pray, 
Thus be cast away : 
Plead for me, thy slave — O plead to Jove ! 



HERMOTIMUS. 279 



t 
XVIII. 



"I have heard thee with the Muses singing- 
Heard that full melodious voice of thine, 
Silver-clear throughout the ether ringing — 
Seen thy locks in golden clusters shine ; 
And thine eye so bright, 
With its innate light, 
Hath ere now been bent so low as mine. 



XIX. 

" Hast thou lost the wish — the will — to cherish 

Tliose who trusted in thy godlike power 1 
Hyacintbus did not wholly perish ! 

Still he lives, the firstling of thy bower; 
Still he feels thy rays. 
Fondly meets thy gaze, 
Though but now the spirit of a flower. 



2^0 MISCELLANEOUS HO EMS. 



XX, 



" Hear me, Phoebus ! Hear rae and deliver ! 

Lo ! the morning breaketh from afar — 
God ! thou comest bright and great as ever — 
Night goes back before thy burning car ; 
All her lamps are gone — 
Lucifer alone 
Lingers still for thee — the blessed star ! 



XXI. 



" Hear me, Phoebus !" — And therewith descended 

Through the window-arch a glory -gleam, 
All effulgent — and with music blended ; 
For such solemn sounds arose as stream 
From the Memnon-lyre, 
When the morning fire 
Gilds the giant's forehead with its beam. 



HKRMOTIMDS. 281 



" Thou hast heard thy servant's prayer, Apollo ' 

Thou dost call me, mighty God of Day ! 
Fare-thee-well, lone *"— And more hollow 
Came the phantom- voice, then died away. 
When the slaves arose, 
Not in calm repose — 
Not in sleeo, but o<"flth, their mistress lac. 



(E N N K. 



On the holy mount of Uo. 

Where the pine and cypress grov.% 
Sate a young and lovely woman, 

Weeping ever, weeping low. 
Drearily throughout the forest 

Did the winds of autumn blow, 
And the clouds above were flying, 

And Scamander rolled below. 

"Faithless Paris ! cruel Paris!" 
Thus the poor deserted spake — 

Wherefore thus so strangely leave me? 
Why thy loving bride forsake ? 



283 



Why no tender word at parting — 
Why no kiss, no farewell take? 

Would that I could but forget thee ! 

Would this throbbincr heart raiirht break ! 



" Is my face no longer blooming 1 

Are my eyes no longer bright 1 
Ah ! my tears have made them dimmer, 

And my cheeks are pale and white. 
I have wept since early morning. 

I shall weep the livelong night; 
Now I long for sullen darkness, 

As I once have longed for light. 

" Paris ! canst thou then be cruel ! 

Fair, and young, and brave thou art — 
Can it be that in thy bosom 

Lies so cold, so hard a heart ? 
Children were we bred together — 

She who bore me suckled thee ; 
I have been thine old companion. 

When thou hadst no more but me. 



284 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

"I have watched thee in thy slumbers, 

When the shadow of a dream 
Passed across thy smiUng features, 

Like the ripple on a stream ; 
And so sweetly were the visions 

Pictured there with lively grace, 
That I half could read their import 

By the changes on thy face. 

" When I sang of Ariadne, 

Sang the old and mournful tale, 
How her faithless lover, Theseus, 

Left her to lament and wail ; 
Then thine eyes would fill and glisten, 

Her complaint could soften thee : 
Thou hast wept for Ariadne — 

Theseus' self might weep for me ! 

" Thou may'st find another maiden 
With a fairer face than mine — 

With a gayer voice and sweeter, 
And a spirit liker thine : 



CENONE. 285 

For if e'er my. beauty bound thee, 

Lost and broken is the spell ; 
But thou canst not tind another 

That will love thee half so welL 

" O thou hollow ship, that bearest 

Paris o'er the faithless deep ! 
Wouldst thou leave him on some island 

Where alone the waters weep ; 
Where no human foot is moulded 

In the wet and yellow sand — 
Leave him there, thou hollow vessel t 

Leave him on that lonely strand ! 

"Then his heart will surely soften, 

When his loolish hopes decay, 
A.nd his older love rekindle, 

As the new one dies away. 
Visionary hills will haunt him, 

Rising from the glassy sea, 
And his thoughts will wander homeward 

Unto Ida and to me. 



286 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

* " O ! that like a little swallow 

] could reach that lonely spot ! 
All his errors would be pardoned, 

All the weary past forgot. 
Never should he wander from me — 

Never should he more depart ; 
For these arms would be his prison, 

And his home would be my heart!" 

Thus lamented fair (Enone, 

Weeping ever, weeping lovr, 
On the holy mount of Tda. 

Where the pine and cypress gn> > . 
m the self-same hour Cassandra 

Shrieked her prophecy of wo, 
And into the Spartan dwelling 

Did the faithless Paris go. 



THE BURIED FLOWER. 



I. 

In the silence of my chamber, 

When the night is still and deep, 

And the drowsy heave of ocean 
Mutters in its charmed sleep, 

II. 

Oft I hear the angel-voices 

Tliat have thrilled me long ago, — 
Voices of my lost companions, 

Lying deep beneath the snow. 



288 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

111. 

O, the garden I remember. 

In the gay and sunny spring, 
When our laughter made the thickets 

And the arching alleys ring ! 

TV. 

. O the merry ourst of gladness : 
O the soft and tender tone ! 
O the whisper never uttered 
Save to one fond ear alone ! 

V. 

O the light of life that sparkled 

In those bright and bounteous eyes ! 

O the blush of happy beauty, 
Tell-tale of the heart's surprise ! 

VI. 

O the radiant light that girdled 
Field and forest, land and sea. 

When we all were young together, 
And the earth was new to me ! 



THE nURIED FLOWER. 
VII. 

Where are now the flowers we tended 1 
Withered, broken, branch and stein ; 

Where are now the hopes we cherished ? 
Scattered to the winds with them. 

VIII. 

For ye, too, were flowers, ye dear ones ! 

Nursed in hope and reared in love. 
Looking fondly ever upward 

To the clear blue heaven above : 

IX. 

Sroi:ing on the sun that cheered us, 
Rising lightly from the rain, 

Never iRjlding up your fi-eshness 
Save to give it forth again : 

X. 

Nevei- shaken, save by accents 

From a tongue that was iKjt fiee, 

As the modest blossom ti-embles 

At the wooing of the bee. 
13 



289 



290 MISCELLANEOUr, POEMS. 

XT. 

O ! 'tis sad to lie and reckon 
All the days of faded youth. 

All the vows that we believed iii, 
All the words we spoke in truth. 

XII. 

Severed — were it severed only 
By an idle thought of strife, 

Such as time may knit together ; 
Not the broken chord of life ! 

XIII. 

O my heart ! that once so ti*uly 
Kept another's time and tune, 

Heart, that kindled in the spring-tide, 
Look around thee in the noon ! 

XIV. 

Where are they who gave the impulse 
To thy earliest thought and flow 1 

Look around the ruined garden — 
All are withered, dropped, or low ! 



THE BURIKD FLOWER. 291 

XV. 

Seek the birthplace of the Lily, 

Dearer to the boyish dream 
Than the golden cups of Eden, 

Floating on its slumberous stream; 

XVI. 

Never more shalt thou behold her — 

She, the noblest, fairest, best : 
She that rose in fullest beauty, 

Like a queen, above the rest. 

XVII. 

Only still 1 keep her image 

As a thought that cannot die ; 
He who raised the shade of Helen 

Had no greater power than 1. 

XVIII. 

O ! I fling my spirit backward. 

And 1 pass o'er years of pain ; 
All 1 Itjved is rising round me, 

All the lost returns again. 



'^^ MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

XIX. 

Blow, for ever blow, ye breezes, 
Warmly as ye did before ! 

Bloom again, ye happy gardens 
With the radiant tints of yore I 

XX. 

Warble out in spray and thicket. 

All ye choristei-s unseen ; 
Let the leafy woodland echo 

With an anthem to its queen ! 

XXI. 

Lo ! she Cometh in her beauty. 

Stately with a Juno grace. 
Raven locivs, Madonna-braided 

O'er her sweet and blushing face; : 

XXII. 

Eyes of deepest violet, beaming 

With the love that knows not shame- 
Lips, that thrill my inmost being 
With the utterance of a name. 



THE BURIED FLOWER. 



XXIII. 



293 



And I bend the knee before her, 
As a captive ought to bow, — 

Pray thee, listen to my pleading. 
Sovereign of my soul art thou ! 



O my dear and gentle lady ! 

L^t me show thee all my pain, 
Ere the words that late were prisonwi 

Sink into my heart again. 

XXV. 

Love, they say, is very fearful 
Ere its curtain be withdrawn, 

Trembling at the thought of error 
As the shadows scare the fawn. 

XXVI. 

Love hath bound me to thee, ladN ! 

Since the well-remembered day 
When I first beheld thee cominj^ 

Tn the light of lustrous May. 



?94 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

XXVII. 

Not a word I dared to utter — 
More than he who, long ago, 

Saw the heavenly shapes descending 
Over Ida's slopes of snow ; 

XXVIII. 

When a low and solemn music 

Floated through the listening grove 

And the throstle's song was silenced, 
And the doling of the dove : 

XXIX. 

When immortal beauty opened 
All its charms to mortal sight, 

And the awe of worship blended 
With the throbbing of delight. 

XXX. 

As the shepherd stood before ther.i^ 
Trembling in the Phrygian dell, 

Even so my soul and being 

Owned the n\agic of the spell ; 



THE BURIED FLOWER. 295 

XXXI. 

And I watched thee ever fondly. 

Watched thee, dearest ! from afiir, 
With the mute and humble homage 

Of the Indian to a star. 

XXXIT. 

Thoii wert still the lady Flora 

In her morning garb of bloom ; 
Where thou wert was light and glory, 

Where thou wert not, dearth and gloom'. 

XXXIII. 

So for many a day I followed 

For a long and weary while, 
Ere my heart rose up to bless thee 

For the yielding of a smile, — 

XXXIV. 

Ere thy words were few and broken 

As they answered back to mine, 
Ere my lips had power to thank thee 

For the gift vouchsafed by thine. 



''^^^ MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



XXXV. 



Then a mighty gijsh of passion 
Through my inmost being ran ; 

Then my older life was ended, 
And a dearer course began. 

XXXVI. 

Dearer !— ! I cannot tell thee 
What a load was swept away, 

What a world of doubt and darkn 
Faded in the dawiug day ! 



esis 



XXXVII. 



All my error, all my weaJtness, 
All my vain delusions fled ; 

Hope again revived, and gladness 
Waved its wings above my head 

XXXVIII. 

Like the wanderer of the desert, 
When, across the dreary sand, 

Breathes the perfume from the thickets 
Bordering on the promised land : 



THE BURIED FLOWER. 29*7 

XXXIX. 

When afar he sees the palm-treeu 

Cresting o'er the lonely well. 
When he hears the pleasant tinkle 

Of the distant camel's bell : 

XL. 

So a fresh and glad emotion 

Rose within my swelling breast. 

And I hurried swiftly onwards 
To the haven of my rest. 

XLI. 

Thou wert there with word and welcome. 
With thy smile so purely sweet ; 

And I laid my heart before thee. 
Laid it, darling! at thy feet. 

XLII. 

O ye words that sound so hollov, 

As I now recall your tone ! 

What are ye but empty echoes 

Of a passion crushed and gone"? 
l>i^ 



298 MISCELLAXEOUS POEMS. 

XLIII. 

Wheiv'fore should I seek to kindle 
Light, when all around is gloom i 

Wher(ifore should I raise a phantom 
O'er the dark and silent tomb f. 

XLIV. 

Early wert thou taken, Mary ! 

hi thy fair and glorious prime, 
Ere the bees had ceased to murmur 

Through the umbrage of the lime 

XLV. 

Buds were blowing, waters flowing. 

Birds were singing on the tree. 
Everything was bright and glowina 

When the angels came for thee. 

XLVI. 

Death had laid aside his terror, 
And he found thee calm and mild 

Lying in thy robes of whiteness, 
Like a pure and stainless child 



TirE BUR [ED FLOWER. 299 

XLVII. 

Hardly had the mountain-violet 

Spread its blossoms on the sod, 
Ere they laid the turf above thee. 

And thy spirit rose to God. 

XLVIII. 

Early wert thou taken, Mary ! 

And I know 'tis vain to weep — 
Tears of mine can never wake thee 

From thy sad and silent sleep. 



O away ! my thoughts are earthward ! 

Not asleep, tny love, art thou ! 
Dwelling In the land of glory 

With the saints and angels now. 



Brighter, fairer far than living, 
With no trace of wo or pain, 

Robed in everlasting beauty, 
Shall I see thee once again. 



yoo 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
LI. 

By the light that never ladeth, 
Underneath eternal skies, 

When the dawn of resurrection 
Breaks o er deathless Paradise, 



THE OLD CAMP 



IN A ROMAN FORTIFICATION IN BAVARIA- 



There is a cloud before the sua, 

The wind is hushed and still, 
And silently the waters run 

Beneath the sombre hill. 
The sky is dark in every place 

As is the earth below : 
Methinks it wore the self-same face 

Two thousand years ago. 



•302 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

II. 

No light IS on the ancient wall, 
No light upon the mound; 

The very fiees. so thick anrl tall- 
Cast gloom, not shade, around, 

So silent is the place and cold, 
So far from human ken. 

It hath a look that mak^Q me oM. 
And spectres time again. 



III. 

I listen, half in thought to hear 

The Roman trumpet blow — 
I search for glint of helm and spear 

Amidst the forest-bough ; 
And armor rings, and voices swell — 

I hear the legion's tramp. 
And mark the lonely sentinel 

Who guards the lonely camp. 



THE OJD CAMP. 303 



IT. 



Methinks 1 havp no other home, 

No other hearth to find ; 
For nothing save the thought of Rome 

Is stirring in my mind. 
And all tnat I have heard or dreamed, 

And all I had forgot, 
Are rising up, as though they seemed 

The household of the spot. 



And all the names that Romans knew 

Seem just as known to me. 
As if I were a Roman too — 

A Roman born and free : 
And I could rise at Ca'sar's name, 

As though it were u charm 
To draw shai'p lightning from the tame, 

And brace the coward's arm. 



^^"^ MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



VI. 



And yet, if yonder sky were blue. 

And earth were sunny gay. 
If nature wore the summer hue 

That decked her yesterday, 
The mound, the trench, the rampart's space, 

Would move me nothing more 
Than many a sweet sequestered pLice 

That 1 have marked before. 



VII. 



I could not feel the breezes bring 

Rich odors from the trees ; 
I could not hear the linnets sino- 

And think on themes like these. 
The painted insects as they pass 

In swift and motJey strife, 
The very lizard in the grass 

Would scare me back to life. 



THE OLD CAMP. 



VIII. 



305 



Then is the past so gloomy now 

That it may never bear 
The open smile ot natures orow, 

Or rae^,t <"he sunny air'? 
I know not that — but joy is power. 

However short it last ; 
And joy befits the present nour, 

If sadaess fits the past. 



DANUBE 



THE EUXINE, 



* Danube, Danube ! wherefore com'st thou 

Red and raging to m j caves ? 
Wherefore leap thy swollen waters 

Madly through the broken waves 1 
Wherefore is thy tide so sullied 

With a hue unknown to me ; 
Wherefore dost thou bring pollution 

To the old and sacred sea?" 

•' Ha ! rejoice, old Father Euxine ! 
I am brimming full and red 5 



DANUBE AND THE EUXINE. ' 30*7 

Noble tidings do I carry 

From my distant channel-bed. 
I have been a Christian river 

Dull and slow this many a year, 
Rolling do^^'n my torpid waters 

Through a silence morne and drear , 
Have not felt the tread of armies 

Trampling on my reedy shore ; 
Have not heard the trumpet calling. 

Or the cannon's gladsome roar -, 
Only listen to the laughter 

From the village and the town, 
And the church-bells, ever jangling, 

As the weary day went down. 
So I lay and sorely pondered 

On the days long since gone by, 
When my old primaeval forests 

Echoed to the war-man's cry ; 
When the race of Thor and Odin 

Held their battles by my side, 
And the blood of man was mingluig 

Warmly with my chilly tide. 



308 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



Father Euxine ! thou rememb'rest 

How I brought thee tribute then — 
Swollen corpses, gashed and gory, 

Heads and limbs of slaughtered men 1 
Father Euxine ! be thou joyful ! 
I am running red once more — 
Not with heathen blood, as early, 

But with gallant Christian gore ! 
For the old times are returning, 
And the cross is broken down, 
And I hear the tocsin sounding 
In the village and the town : 
And the glare of burning cities 

Soon shall light me on my way— 
Ha ! my heart? is bi^ and jocund 

With the draught I drank to-day. 
Ha ! I feel my strength awakened. 
And my brethren shout to me ; 
Each is leaping red and joyous 

To his own awaiting sea. 
Rhine and Elbe are plunging downward 
Through their wild anarchic land. 



DANUBE AND THE EUXINE. 809 

Everywhere are Christians falling 

By their brother Christians' hand ! 
Yea, the old times are returning, 

And the olden gods are here ! 
Take my tribute, Father Euxine, 

To thy waters dark and drear ! 
Therefore come I with my torrents, 

Shaking castle, crag, and town ; 
Therefore with the shout of thunder. 

Sweep I herd and herdsman dowD ^ 
Therefore leap I to thy bosom 

With a loud triumphal roar — 
Greet me, greet me, Father Euxine — 

I am Christian Stream no more !" 



THE SCHEIE OF SINAI 



1830. 



TROiA THE GEEMAN OF FREILIGKATH. 



" Lift me without the tent, I say, — 

Me and my ottoman, — 
['11 see the messenger myself I 
It is the caravan 

From Africa, thou say est. 

And they bring us news of war? 



THE SCHEIK OF SINAI. 311 



Draw we without the tent, and quick ! 

As at the de.sert-well 
The freshness of the purling brook 
Delights the tired gazelle, 

So pant I for the \oice of him 
That Cometh from afar !" 



The Scheik was lifted from his ter.t. 
And thus outspake the Moor : — 
"I saw, old Chief, the Tricolor 
On Algiers' topmost tower — 
Upon its battlements the silks 
Of Lyons flutter free. 
Each morning, in the market-place, 

The muster-drum is beat, 
And to the war-hymn of Marseilles 
The squadrons pace the street. 

The armament from Toulon sailed 
The Franks have crossed the sei 



3! 2 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

III. 

" Towards the south the cohimns marched 

Beneath a cloudless sky : 
Their weapons glittered in the blaze 
Of the sun of Barhary ; 

And with the dusty desert sand 
Their horses' manes were white. 
The wild marauding tribes dispersed 

In terror of their lives ; 
They fled into the mountains 

With their children and their wives. 
And urged the clumsy dromedary 
Up the Atlas' height. 

IT. 

•* The Moors have ta'en their vantage-gro:ui4. 

The volleys thunder fast — 
The dark defile is blazing 
Like a heated oven-blast. 

The lion hears the strange turmoil, 
And leaves his mangled prey — 



T'lK iSCHEIK OF SINAJ. 313 

No place \vas that for him to feed; 

And thick and loud the cries, 
Feu ! Allah ! — A IJah ! En avant! ' 
In mmgled discord rise : 

The Franks have reached the sumrnil; 
They have won the victory ! 



" With bristling steel, upon the top 

The victors take their stand ; 

Beneath tneii feet, with all its t'nviif;. 

They see the promised land — 

From Tunis, even unto Fez, 

From Atlas to the sefts. 

The cavaliers alight to gaze, 

And gaze full well they may. 

Where countless minarets stand up 

So solemnly and gray. 

Amidst the dark-green masses 

Of the fl*)wcrir>g myrtle-trees. 
14 



MISCELLANEOUS i Oifiiia. 



" The almond blossoms in the vale ; 

The aloe from the ]'ock 
Throws out its lung and prickly leaves, 
Nor dreads the tempest's shock : 
A blessed land, I ween, is that, 
Though luckless is its Bey. 
There lies the sea — beyond lies France ! 

Her banners in the air 
Float proudly and triumphantiy — 
A salvo ! come, prepare ! 

And loud ana long the mountains niuQ. 
With that glad artillery." 

VII. 

" 'Tis they 1" exclaimed the aged Scneik. 

"I've battled by their side — 
I fought beneath the Pyramids ! 
That day of deathless pride — 

Red as thy turban. ISIoor, th.at eve, 
Was evc'.-y creek in Nile ! 



Tilk: SCHIEK OF SINAI. 315 j 

\ 

But tell me—" and he griped his hand — 

" Their Sultaun 1 Stranger, say, — 
His form — his face — his posture, man — ' 

Thou saw'st him in the fray 1 

His eye — what wore he f But the Moor j 

Sought in his vest awhile. I 



vni. 



"Their Sultaun, Scheik, remauis ai home 

Within his palace walls : 
He sends u I'asha in his stead 
To brave the bolts and bails. 

He was not there. An "Aga burst 
For him through Atlas' hold. 
Yet I can show thee somewhat too, 

A Frankish Cavalier 
Told me his effigy was stamped 
Upon this medal here — 
He gave it me witn others 
For an Arab steed I sold."' 



31}^ MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

IX. 

The old man took the golden coin : 

Gazed steadfastly a while, 
[f that could be the Sultaun 
Whom from the banks of Nile 
He guided o'er the desert path ; — 
Then sighed and thus spake ho — 
" 'Tis not his eye — 'tis not his brow — 

Anothei- face is there : 
[ never saw thi> man before — 
His head is like a pear 

Take back thy medal, Moor — 'tip not 
That which I hoped to see." 



EPITAPH 



CONSTANTINE KAN ARTS. 



FROM THK GERMAN OF WILQELM MIILLER. 



1 AM Constantine Kanaris. 

I, who lie beneath this stone, 
Twice into the air in thunder 

Have the Turkish galleys blown. 

In my bed I died — a Christian, 

Hoping straight with Christ to be ; 

Yet one earthly wish is buried 
Deep within the grave with me — 



318 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

That upon the open ocean, 

When the third Armada came, 

They and I had died together. 
Whirled aloft on wings of flame. 

Yet 'tis something that they've laid me 

In a land without a stain : 
Keep it thus, my God and Saviour, 

Till I rise from earth aaraii: I 



THE REFUSAL 



CHARON.* 



FKUM TDK ROMAIC 



Why look the distant mountains 

So gloomy and so drear ? 
Are rain-clouds passing o'er them 

Or is the tempest near 1 

* According to the superstition of the modem Greeks, 
Charon performs the f inction which tho'.r r.ucestors assisrued 
to Hormes, of conducting the souls of tlie dead to the cthei 
world . 



^2^ MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

No shadow of the tempest 
Is there, nor wind nor ram — 

'Tis Charon that is passing by, 
With all his gloomy train. 

The young men march before him, 

Iq all their strengtli and pride : 
The tender little infants, 

They totter by his side ; 
The old men walk behind hiin, 

And earnestly they pray — 
Both old and yomig imploring h 

To grant some brief delay. 



" O Charon ! halt, we pray thee, 

By yonder little town, 
Or near that sparkling fountain. 

Where the waters wimple down ! 
The old will drink and be refreshed. 

The young the disc will fling, 
And the tender little ehildre/i 

Pluck flowers beside the spring."' 



Til 



THE REFUSAL OF CHARON. 321 

" I will not stay my journey, 

Nor halt by any town, 
Near any sparkling fountain, 

Where the waters wimple down : 
The mothers coming to the well 

Would know the babes they bore ; 
The wives would clasp their husbands^ 

Nor could I part them more." 



A P 1' E N D I X 



A P P E i\ D I X 



F.XAMI NATION OF THE STATEMENT:; IN .MR M VCAU1.\Y>' 
niSTORY OF ENGLAND. REOARPIXG JOHN' GRARAME 
OF CLAVERHOUSE, VISCOTNT OF DUNDEE 

** Discarding modern historians, who, in too many instances, 
do not seein to entertain the slightest scruple ichiht dealing with 
the memory of the dead." 

Preface to BraiAL-MARCH of Dl-ndee— P. 88. 

SixcE the fii^st edition of this volL.riiv- wa? published, Mr. 
Macaulay's long-promised History oi I-jsj^iand has beeu 
given to the public. Without vrishing in any way to de- 
tract from the general merits of a work which has already 
attained so great popularity; but, on the* contrary, ac- 
knowledging with gratitude the delight I have received 
from its perusal. I must take the liberty of challenging 
its accuracy with regard to many of the details referring 
to Scottish events, more especially those connected with 
the proceedings which were instituted against tlie Cove- 
nanters. Witli the political conclusions drawn by the 
learned and accomplished author, I have of course nothing 
to, do : these fall within the sphere of private judg- 
ment ; and though 1 differ .rom hitn very largely in his 



326 



APPENDIX. 



estimate botn of men and measures, I am not entitled tc 
enter into such an argument. But tlie facts set forth by 
an historian are public property, aud I shall now proceed 
to examine the charges which Mr. Macaulay has brought 
against Lord Dundee, and the authorities upon which those 
charges have bc^ x ^onr ael 

"With reference to the proceedings in the west of Scotland. 
Juring the year 1685, Mr. Macaulay says : "Those shires in 
which the Covenanters were most numerous were given up 
to the license of the army. With the army was mingled 
a mihtia, composed of the most violent and profligate of 
those who called themselves Episcopalians. Pre-eminent 
among the bands which oppressed and wasted these un- 
happy districts were the dragoons commanded by James 
Graham of Claverhouse. The story ran that these wicked 
men used in tlieu- revels to play at the torments of hell, and 
to call each other by the names of devils and damned souls, 
llie chief of this Tophet on earth, a soldier of distinguished 
courage and professional skill, but rapacious and profane, of 
violent temper and of obdurate heart, has left a name which, 
wherever the Scottish race is settled on tlie face of the globe, 
is mentioned with a pecuhar energy (jf hatied." 

These are hard words : let us now t^ee how they are justi- 
fied. The name which has been left by " the chief of this 
Tophet on earth" is at all events not that which has been 
set forth by Mr. Macaulay in his ])istory.' There never was 
any such person as James Gi'ahani of Claverhouse. We 
know indeed of one James Grahame wjio was conspicuous 
in Scottish history, and his name has ere now been exposea 
to as much calumny and vituperation as is still lavished on 
his gallant relative ; but loyalists venerate him as the great 
Marquis of Montrose. John Grahame of Claverhouse we 
know also, and men speak of him as the Viscount of Dundee. 
But of Mr. Macaulay 's James Graham we know nothing 1 
neither has that name, as applied to Claverhouse, a plac; 
iu any accredited history save his own. 



TOE VISCOUNT or DCNDEE. 



32'; 



It may appear trivial to insist upon a mistake, which, 
however, has been perpetuated through several editions ; but 
it is not without its importance. Xo man really famihar 
witli tlie history of Scotland could have committed such a 
blunder : he might just as well have talked of the good Sir 
Joshua of Douglas, ur of Tobias Randolph, Earl of Moray. 
And, therefore, in repeated instances, when Scotland or 
the Scots are mentioned, we find Mr. Macaula^s assertions 
at variance with the ordinary lecords of history. Take, 
for example, liis statement that " the Scottish people" had 
" butchered their first James in his bedchamber," which 
is just about as correct as if we were to say that the 
people of France butchered Hemy IV., because that monarch 
was assassinated by RaviUac, or that the British nation ap- 
proves of regicide, because a maniac has fired at the Queen ! 
Surely Mr, Macaulay, before exerting his rhet<.>ric to blacken 
the character of so eminent a personage as Lord Dundee, 
might have taken the trouble to consult some record of the 
peerage for his name. 

Mr. ^Nlacaulay is pleased to stigmatise Claverhoiise by using 
the epithet '* rapacious."' This is altogether a new charge, 
and for it he has not vouchsafed the slightest authority. 
Cruel, bloody, and profane, are epithets with which we are 
famihar : writers on the Covena«tiug side have used them over 
and over again ; and if the narratives upon which they pro- 
ceed, and which many of them conscientiously beheve, were 
authenticated, they are unquestionably justified in doing so. 
But rapacity is, I repeat, a new charge. Tlie worst foe of 
Claverhouse never yet hinted that there was anything mean 
or sordid in his disposition. Xo instance of bribery can be 
alleged against him ; lie levied no contributions ; and with 
every opfH>rrunity within his reach of amassing a large for- 
tune, he died in compai-ative poverty. I am certain that no 
man. really acquainted with Scottish history, whatever be 
his jx)htical or traditional opinions, will gainsay me in this ; 
and as this particular charge has been brought forward 



328 APPENDIX. 

without a shadow of authority to support it, I can onl\ 
express my regret that an author who can write so well 
should be so reckless in the choice of his epithets. 

The " profanity" imputed to Claverhouse deserves a few 
words. So far as I can discover, the cliarge is founded 
upon certain expressions said to have been used by hiui 
immediately after John Brown, the carrier of Priestfield, 
was shot. If used, the charge is amply proven. I shall 
presently have occasion to consider the historical vouchers 
for tliis remaikable story, upon which so great stress has 
been laid, and to state my grounds for maintaining that it 
is utterly unworthy of credence. In the mean time, and as 
to the general charge, I shall content myself by quoting the 
words of a witness who was personally acquainted with 
Dundee, and whose testimony is liable to no other excep- 
tion, <iave what may be cast upon him in liis capacity of a 
gentleman and a Jacobite. " His Lordship was so nice in 
point of honor, and so ciue to his woid, that he never 
was known once to break it. From this exactness it was 
that he once lost the opportunity of an easy victory over 
Mackay in Strathspey, by dismissing Captain Forbes ; who, 
meeting tlie two troopers sent by the Lord Kilsyth, not 
only discovered that intelligence, but tlu; neigliboiliood of 
the Highland army, as I have formerly related. This is 
the only real error chargeable in his conduct, while he 
commanded in this war. But this is the more excusable, 
that it proceeded fiom a principle of religion, whereof he 
was strictly observant ; for, besides family worship performed 
regularly evening and moiiiing at his house, he retired to 
his ckiset at certain hours and employed himself in that 
duty. Tliis I affirm upon the testimony of several that 
lived in his neighborhood in Edinburgh, where his ofKce 
of Privy Councillor often obliged him to be ; and particu- 
larly from a Presbyterian lady who lived long in the st(trey 
or house immediately below his Lordship's, and wl)o was 
othfi wise so rigid in her opinions (hat she coiiki not believt; 



THE VISCOL'NT OF DUN'DEE. o'iD 

a good thing of any person of his persuasion, till his condant 
rectified her mistake." * 

As for the general morality of tlie dragoons, I do not feel 
myself called upon to prove that they were faultless pat- 
terns of virtue. 1 shall not aver, as Mr. Macaulay has done 
of the Puritans, " that, in that singular camp*, no riot was 
heard, no drunkenness or gambling was seen." I believe 
that austerity was never yet the prevailing characteristic 
of any barrack, and I should be sorry to overstate my case 
by random laudations even of the Scottish Life-guards. But 
when we are gravely told that these soldiers " used in tlieir 
revels to play at the torments of hell, and to call each other 
by ihe names of devils and damned souls," one's curiosity 
is certainly excited. The pastime is fortunately not a com- 
mon one ; it was not recommended in the Book of Sports, 
which gave such exceeding offence to the Puritans ; and the 
nomenclature alleged to be employed would imply an in- 
timate knowledge of demonology fiir from usual with the 
soldiery of that period. I look to Mr. Macaulay 's note for 
his authority, and I find it appended in the shape of the venfr 
rated name of Wodrow. 

English readers can hardly be supposed to know what 
manner of man this Wodrow was, whom, in preference to 
any other chronicler, Mr. Macaulay has thouglit fit to follow 
with reference to that period of Scottish history. It may 
therefore be proper, very shortly, to give a brief account of 
nis wiitings, style, notions, and credibility.' 

Robert Wodrow, minister at Eastwood, is tolerably well 
known to Scottish antiquaries as the author of two works — 
the History of the Church of Scotland, and the Analecta ; or 
Materials for a History if Rcmarkahh Providences, mostly 
relating to Scotch Ministers and Christians. He was born in 
1679, was consequently a mere cliild at the time of cht; Re- 
volution, and gave liis history to the world in 1721. That 

• .Mejnuirs of Sir Fwrn Cameron of iMc/teUl. 



830 APPENDIX. 

liistory, according to his own account, was compiled partly 
from existing dfxiuments. and partly from the narrative of 
persons who had orally comiminicated with the author ; 
and a most extraordinary history it is, in every sense of the 
word. 

Born in a credulous age, "Wodrow was endowed with a 
power of credulity which altogether transcended bounds. 
He has not unaptly been styled the Scottish Aubrey, though 
Aubrey by the side of Wodrow would almost appear a 
skeptic. The Romish miracles sink into insignificance 
compared with those recored by Mr. Macaulay's pet author- 
ity. But for the numerous, though possibly unintentional 
profanities, and the gi-ossness of some of the anecdotes 
which are scattered over its pages, the Analecta would bo 
pleasant reading. We learn from Wodrow how Elizabeth 
Kennedy, sister to Hugh Kennedy, Provost of Ayr, being 
extremely ill of stone, declined submitting to a surgical 
operation, and how the calculus was miraculously dissolved 
at the intercession of a prayer-meeting assembled in her 
house. We read of corpses sitting up in bed, announcing 
to the terrified mourners the judgments of another world ; 
of Mr. John Campbell of Craigie, minister, who had an in- 
terview with the devil, not liowever unprofitabl}', for he 
thereby escaped eating a poisoned hen for supper; of rats 
which were sent as special warnings to the Reverend Mr. 
David Williamson ; of the ghost of a barber which appeared 
to the Reverend Mr. WiUiam Leslie; of a gifted horse in 
Annandale, which could cure the king's evil; and of a 
thousand similar instances of ludicrous superstition. These 
anecdotes are not confined to private individuals — for per- 
sons of note and name are made to figure in the pages of 
Wodrow. Take as an example the following morceau of 
history, gravely narrated of Archbishop Sharpe : " At 
another time. Archbishop Sharpe, presiding in the Privy 
Council, was earnest to have Janet Douglas brought before 
that board, accusing her of sorcery and witchciaft. When 



THE VISCOUNT OF DUNDEE. '6''M 

she was brought, she vindicated herself of that a.hc^°<\ 
crime ; declariug, though she knew very well who were 
witches, yet she was not one herself, for she was endeavor- 
ing to discover those secret hellisli plots, and to counter- 
mine the kingdom of darkness. The Archbishop insisted 
she might be sent away to the King's plantations in the 
West Indies. She only dropt one word to the Bishop : — 
' My Lord,' says she, ' who was you with in your closet on 
Saturday niglit last, betwixt twelve and one o'clock V upon 
which the Bishop changed his countenance, and tmned 
black and pale, and then no more was said. When the 
council rose up, the Duke of Rothes called Janet into a 
room, and inquired at her privately ' who that person was 
that was with the Bishop?' She refused at tirst; but he 
promising upon his word of honor to warrant her at all 
hands, and that she should not be sent to America, she 
says, ' My Lord, it was the meikle black devil !' " 

This is in reality a mild specimen of Wodrow; but it 
may suffice to show the mental constitution of the man. 
Against his fairness I shall make no charge, though Mr. 
Kirkpatrick Sharpe, in his notes appended to Kirton's 
History, has, I think, incontestably shown, from Wodrow's 
existing maimscripts, that he purposely garbled, or at least 
omitted to quofe, such parts of the coirespondence of the 
Archbishop of St. Andrews as would have effectually refuted 
some of the calumnies then current against that unfortu- 
nate prelate. At present, I merely look to Wodrow as Mr. 
Macaulay's informant ; and I find, on referring to tlie his- 
tory, what the fallowing passage is founded on. "Dreadful," 
says Wodrow, "were the acts of wickedness done by the 
soldiers at this time, and Lagg was as deep as any. They 
used to take to themselves in their cabals the nanies of 
devils, and persons tliey supposed to be in hell, and with 
whips to lash one another as a jest upon hell. But I shall 
draw a veil over man}--' of their dreadf d impieties I meet 
with m papers written at thi? tinie !" It is hardly woith 



332 APPENDIX. 

■v^^hile to remark that this passage does not, ir. the slightest 
degree, refer to the troops under the command of Claver- 
house, but to the militia or local force which was raised by 
Grierson of Lagg. This story is specially told of Grierson bv 
Howie in his Biographia Scoticana, a work to which I allude 
simply fur the purpose of showing against whom the legend 
was directed. For any authentic historical information we 
shall search that Apocrypha in vain. So much for Mr. Mac- 
aulay's acciwaey in applying the materials of his veracious 
authority ; but surely the absurdity of such stuff renders re- 
futation unnecessary. Mr. Macau! ay, however, goes beyond 
Wodrow even m minuteness, for in a subsequent paragraph he 
particularizes the very names which were used, as those of 
Beelzebub and ApoUyon ! He might with equal propriety 
have adopted the phraseology of ancient Pistol, and gravely 
informed us that the Scottish mode of military accost was, 
" How now, Mephistophilus ?" 

We next arrive at the story of John Brown, which I am 
particularly anxious to expiscate. This tale is usually 
brought forward as the crowning instance of the cruelty of 
Claverhouse ; it has repeatedly formed the subject of ro- 
mance and illustration ; and authors of no mean power 
have vied with each other in heightening the horror of its 
details. Some of the grosser fables regarding that disturbed 
period have lost their hold of the popular belief — for ex- 
aggeration may sometimes be carried so far as entirely to 
neutralize its purpose. But the Priestfield tragedy is still 
an article of the peasant's creed ; and, as it has hitherto 
been allowed to pass without examination, it lias furnished 
an overwhelming reply to those who deny the authenticity 
of the mass of Covenanting tradition. I am not ashained to 
own that I have a deep regard for the memory of Lord Dundee 
— a regard founded on a firm belief in his public and private 
vnrtues, his high and chivalrous honor, and his unshaken 
loyalty to his sovereign. But those feelings, however strong, 
would never lead me to vindicate an action of wanton and 



THE VISCOUNT OF DUNDEE. 333 

barbarous cruelty, or even attempt to lessen the stignia by a 
frivolous or dishonest excuse. No cause was ever effectuully 
served by mean evasion, any more than it can be promoted 
by unblushing exaggeration or by gross perversion of facts. 
The charge has been distinctly made, and I now propose to 
examine the authority upon which it is founded, as gravely 
and minutely as though it concerned the chaiacter of the 
living, and not merely the memory of the dead. Mr. Mac- 
aulay shall ^>eali for himself 

"John Brown, a poor carrier of Lanarkshire, was, for 
his singular piety, commonly called the Christian carrier. 
Many years later, when Scotland enjoyed rest, prosperity, and 
religious freedom, old men, who remembered the evil days, 
described him as one versed in divine things, blameless in 
life, and so peaceable that the tyrants could find no offence 
in him, except that he absented liimself from the public 
worship of the Episcopalians. On the first of May he was 
cutting turf, when he was seized by Claverhouse's dragoons, 
rapidly examined, convicted of non-conformity, and sen- 
tenced to death. It is said that even among the soldiers it 
was not easy to find an executioner, for the wife of the poor 
man was present. She led one httle child by the liand ; it 
was easy to see that she was about to give birth to another ; 
and even those wild and hard-hearted men, who nicknamed 
one another Beelzebub and Apollyon, shrank from the great 
wickedness of butchering her Imsband before her face. The 
prisoner meanwhile, raised above himself by the near pros- 
pect of eternity, prayed loud and fervently as one inspired, 
till Claverhouse, in a fury, shot him dead. It was reported 
by credible witnesses that the widow cried out in her 
agony — 'Well, sir, well; the day of reckoning will come;' 
and that the murderer replied — ' To man I can answer for 
what I have done ; and as for God, I will take him into my 
own hand !' Yet it was rumored that even on his seare.J 
Conscience and adamantine heart the dying ejaculations of 
his victim made an impression that was never effaced.'' 



334: APPENDIX. 

Such is Mr. Macaulay's stateaient — well written, simple, 
and affecting. Wodrow is the sole authority upon whicli 
he fuuuds his narrative, and it is fair to say that he has 
deviated but slightly from that chronicle, except in one 
mjiterial jjoint. Wodrow does not profess to specify upon 
what charge Broion was examined and condemned. When 
Mr. Mucaulay says that he was " convicted of nt)ii-C()nfor- 
mity," he speaks without any text; and I shall j)resently 
have occasion to show that his assumption is radically 
wrong. But, as he substantially adopts the tale of Wodrow, 
it is necessary to go back to that writer's sources of informa- 
tion. 

The execution of John Brown is said to have taken place 
on the 1st May, 16S5. The Revolution occurred in 1688 ; 
and Lord Dundee fell at Killiecrankie on the 27th July, 
1689. Wodrow's History was first published in 1721, exactly 
thirtij-six years after the alleged murder. 

These dates are of the utmost importance in considering 
a matter of this kind. The Episcopalian party, which ad- 
hered to the cause of King James, was driven from power 
at the Kevolution, and the Episcopal church proscribed. 
1S.0 mercy was shown to opponents in the literary war which 
followed ; every spocie? of invective and vituperation was 
lavished upon the supporters of the fallen dynasty. Yet, for 
tldrty-tlirec years after the Revolution, the details of this atro- 
cious murder were never revealed to the public I Nowhere in 
print or pamphlet, memoir, history, or declaration, published 
previously to Wodrow, does even the name of John Brown 
occur, save once, in the Cloud of Wit7iesses, a work which 
appeared in 1714; and in that work no details ai-e given, 
the narrative being comprehended in a couple of lines. I have 
searched for it amidst all the records of the so-called martyr- 
ology, but cannot find a trace of it elsewhere, until the Reve- 
rend Robert Wodrow thought fit to place the tale, with all its 
circumstantiality, in his History. How, then, came Wodrow 
to know anything about the murder of Jolin Browu ? IK; 



THE VISCOUNT OF DUNDEE. .^.Sf) 

could have had no personal knowledge or recollection of the 
c'.rcumstaiice, for he was not quite six years of age at the 
time when it is said to liave occurred. He has not offenid 
one scrap of evidence in support of his allegation, and 
merely leaves it to be inferred that he had derived the 
story from that most uncertain of all sources, tradition. 
Even at the hands of the most honest, calitious, and scru- 
pulous chronicler, we should hesitate to receive a tale of 
this kind; but from Wodrow, who is certainly entitled to 
claim none of the above adjectives as applicable to himself, 
who will take it ? No one, I should hope, whose prejudice is 
not so strong as to lead him to disregard the most ordinary 
verification of evidence. Claverhouse had enemies enough 
to insure the circulation of such a damning tale, supposing 
it to have been true, long before he had lain for tAvo-and- 
thirty years in his grave. He was not without eulogists, 
whose tribute to his memory was as gall and wornnvood to 
their opponents, and in whose teeth, most assuredlv, the 
details of such a dastardly and unprovoked murder would 
liave been cast. Yet no man charged him Avith it. More 
than a generation passed away— the two kingdom's had been 
united, and Mar's insurrection quelled, before the miracle- 
mongering minister of Eastwood ventufed, upon no docu- 
mentary authority at all, to concoct and publish the story 
which Mr. Macaulay has adopted without a scruple. 

Af;er what I have said, it may foirly be asked whether the 
whole of this story should be considered a mere myth or 
fable hatched from the brain, or palmed upon the easy cre- 
dulity of Robert Wodrow, or whether tiiere are any grounds 
for believing that it is at least founded upon fact? To this 
I should reply, that, from other testimony, the character and 
complexion of wliich I shall immediately analyze, it appears 
to De true that John Brown of Priestfield, or PriesthiU did 
actually suffer by military execution, Vut that the same 
testmiony ntterly contradicts Wodrow, and his follower Mr. 
Macauhiy, in every important particular relative to the 



;-jaH APPENDIX. 

detAils. Mr. Macaulay may not have known that such tes- 
timony ever existed, for even the most pains-taking liistorian 
is sure to pass over some material in so wide a field ; never- 
theless, since the point has been mooted, it may be a satis- 
faction to him to learn that his version of the storj' has long 
ago been repudiated in essentialibus by the most popular 
work that ever emanated from the Covenanting printing- 
press. 

Patrick "Walker, packman, and publisher at the Bristo 
Port of Edinburgh, was concerned at a very early age in the 
Scottish troubles. In 1682. he and two other Covenanters 
were present at the death of one James Gordon, a volunteer 
in the Earl of Airlie's troop, who it seems was shot through 
the head. Walker, in his own account of this exploit, first 
pubhshed in 172T, cautiously abstains from indicating the 
exact perpetrator of the deed, but leaves the glory thereof 
to be shared among the triumvirate. Tlie sum of his con- 
fession amounts simply to this — that he, Gordon, " got a 
shot in his head out of a pocket-pistol, ratlier fit for divert- 
ing a boy, than killing such a furious, mad, brisk man ; 
which, notwithstanding, killed him dead." He was, more- 
over, says Walker, " seeking his own death, and got it." 
For this affair Walker was imprisoned, and sentenced to 
transportation, but made his escape, and, after various 
vicissitudes, set himself down in his old age to compile the 
Memoirs of the Covenanters. The first of these tracts did not 
appear until after Wodrow's History was pubhshed, and in- 
tense is the contempt expressed by the persecuted packman 
for the slipslop of the fair-weather minister, whom he accuses 
of positive dishonesty. " I wish him," says Walker, in his 
Vindication of Cameron, " repentance and forgiveness fur 
what unaccountable wrongs he has done by his pen to the 
Testimony, and to the names of Ciirist's slaiu witnesses for 
the same. For myself I am easy ; my tongue is yet in my 
head, and my pen in my hand ; and what I have to say 
upon that head for myself, and those with me, will run faster 



THE VISCOUNT OF DUNDEE, 337 

and further thin he has feet to go. I am reflected up«i for 
ray not givnug Mr. \S''odrow better information. ymmrtT. — 
Before bis history came out, when I heard of his manu- 
scripts going from hand to hand among the Long-heads, (I 
knew it would be patched up according to the backsliding 
6pu-it of the day,) I desired the Rev. Mr. James Webster to 
give me account when he came to his house, tliat I might 
have a short conversation with him. Mrs. Webster told him 
my desire. He answered, he depended on the records of 
that time." In the same work he characterizes Wodrow'.s 
statements as " hes and groundless stories ;" and, nwreover, 
piously expresses a wish " that Mr. Wodrow's wellwishers 
■would pray for him, that he may come to himself and be of 
a right mind, who has been so lavish of his misrepresenta- 
tions and groundless reflections," Such is "Walker's opi- 
nion of the authenticity of Wodrow's History, though his 
remarks are of course principally directed to misrepresenta- 
tions of the champions of tlie Covenant But they are use- 
ful as showing his impression of the intrinsic value of the 
work. 

Wallcer's best and earliest tract is the Life of Peden. 
T\x\s originally appeared in 172-i, and is still widely circu- 
lated among tlie yjeasantry of Scotland. It is a strange mix- 
ture of eaniestness and superstition ; sometimes rugged and 
even coarse in its style, and yet at times rising to a point of 
real though homely pathos. Peden, the subject of the me- 
moir, was an inteicommuned minister, \\hom the Covenan- 
ters asserted to "have been endowed with miraculous pro- 
phetical powers. He was concerned in the insunectiou of 
Pentland, and sentenced to banishment, but Uberated by the 
leniency of the government; notwithstanding which he re- 
lapsed into his old courses, became the active agent of rebel- 
lion, and so notorious that he was expressly marked for cap- 
ture. Of his frequent interviews with the devil, his gifts of 
second-sight and divination, and his power of casting out 
unclean spirits, I shall say nothing here. Walker faithfuUy 
14 



338 APPEXDIX. 

records at least a hundred such instances, which are suffi- 
cient to entitle Peden to take rank beside Apollonious of 
Tyana. He appears, however, in actual flesh and blood con- 
nected with the tragedy of John Brown. 

Walker's narrative commences thus : — ' In the beginning 
of May, 1685, lie (Peden) came to the house of Jolin Brown 
and Isobel Weir, whom he had married before he last went 
to Ireland, where he stayed all night ; and in the morning, 
when he took his farewell, he came out at the door saying 
to himself, ' Poor woman, a feajful morning,' twice over — ' a 
dark misty morning ! ' The next morning, between five and 
six hours, the said John Brown having performed the wor- 
ship of God in his family, was going with a spade in his 
hand to make ready some peat ground, the mist being very 
dark, knew not until bloody cruel Claverhouse compassed 
him with three troops of horses, brought him to liis house, 
and there examined him." Walker, like Wo^lrow, is silent as 
to the nature of the charge. Then conies the sentence — " his 
wife standing by with her child in her arms, that she had 
brought forth to him, and another child of his first wife's :" 
and the execution is thus narrated — " Claverhouse ordered 
six soldiers to shoot him ; the most part of tlie bullets came 
upon his head, which scattered his brains upon the ground." 

Such is Walkei's account of the matter, forty years having 
in the mean time intervened ; and whether strictly correct 
or no, it entirely alters the complexion of the case as 
stated by Mr. Macaulay. Instead of John Brown being one 
•'in whom the tyrants could find no offence except that 
he^absented himself from the public worship of the Episco- 
palians," we find him in intercourse with a man who, what- 
ever might be his spiritual gifts, was a notorious outlaw and a 
rebel; the whole romance about the reluctance of the sol- 
diers vanishes; "the wild and hard-hearted men" are at 
once amenable to the authority of their commanding ofiicer • 
at'd tiie alleged murder dwindjes into a case of mibtary ext> 
cution. 



THE VISCOUNT OF DUNDEE. 339 

Of the two histories that of Walker is unquesiionably 
most likely to resemble the truth. He professes to have 
heard some of the details from, the wife «>f P.rtiwn, whereas 
"\V(»drow gives us no manner of authority at all. Tliere ai'e 
however, suspicious circumstances even in Walkers narra- 
tive, which might be noticed. For example, in the original 
edition of his pamphlet, he states that the first person who 
came to Mis. Brown, whilst she was watching by her hus- 
band's body, was " that old singular Christian woman in the 
Cummerhead, named Elizabeth Menzies, three miles dis- 
tant ;" but in the third edition, this matron, retaining her 
residence and encomium, is transmuted into "Jean Brown." 
Surely these two cannot signify one and the same ])erson, 
and we are therefore left in doubt which particular female 
■was the witness. But it is not worih while going into 
minute criticism. Walker, who was a far moie determined 
Covenanter than Wodrow, was not likely to have under- 
stated the circumstances, neither does he profess to know 
upon what charge Brown was examined. I tliink, however, 
I can throw some light upon this person's political delin- 
quencies ; and, strangely enough, my authority is derived 
from an official document which will be found in the Ap- 
pendix to Wodrow. 

"John Brown of Priestfield, in the parish of Muiikirk,"* 
figures in the list of fugitives appended to the Royal Pro- 
clamation of 5th May, 1684. The list is of those who had 
been regularly cited as rebels in arms, f»r resetters of rebels, 
but who had failed to appear. John Brown, therefore, had 
been outlawed a year before his death, and certainly for a 



• In order that there maybe no cavilling ab«iut the identity of the 
name or designation, (for the place of Brown's residence has beeo 
variously primed as '•Priestfield," "Priesthill." and"tlie PreshilJ,") I 
subjoin the exact words of Wndrow, in his account <if the execution. •* 1 
n.ay well bepin with the horrid murder of that exceileiit person, JbAn 
Brown of Priestfield, in the parish of .Muirkirk, by ClaverhoMse. the 
first r.f this month." 



340 APPENDIX. 

very different offence than that "of absenting himself from 
the public worship of the Episcopalians." Undoubtedly it 
was considered, in the eye of the law, an offence to attend 
armed conventicles, where fanatical and intercommuned 
preachers wiested texts from Scripture into encomiums on 
sedition, treason, and murder : that, however, was a very dif- 
ferent thing from non-attendance upon the curate. Wodrow 
acknowledges that Brown " had been a long time upon his 
hiding in the fields," a circumstance surely irreconcilable 
with his entire consciousness of innocence, but easily ex- 
plained on the ground that he was already a rebel and an 
outlaw. To say that he was tried and sentenced for non- 
conformity is to hazard an assertion, not only without 
foundation, but in the very teeth of history. I maintain — 
and I know that I am borne out by incontrovertible proof — 
that, at the time in question, there was no manner of per- 
secution exercised in Scotland against any body of men what- 
ever, on account of their religious tenets. 

Mr. Macaulay, whilst dilating upon the harsh usage of the 
Covenanters, never once afft)rds us a glimpse of the opposite 
side of the picture. His object is to show that James VII., 
immediately on his accession to the throne, commenced a 
relentless religious persecution ; and accordingly, he ignores 
the position of affairs in Scotland during the last six months 
of the reign of Charles II. I have examined very minutely 
the original Records of the Privy Council preserved in the 
public archives of Edinburgh, and these, takon in connexion 
with Fountainhall's explanatory Diaries, furnish ample 
proof that the charges brought against King James are 
without foundation. I propose very shortly to inquire mto 
this matter. 

Charles II. died 6th February, 1685. Let us see what was 
the state of the kingdom toward the close of the preceding 
year. 

In September, 1684, the southern and western shires were 
so turbulent that the Privy CouncU found it necessary to 



THE VISCOUNT OF DUNDEE. H4I 

issue four special commissions of Justiciary for those dis- 
tricts alone. " In the mouth of June last," says the royal 
proclamation of 22d July, " about two .hundred armed rebels 
have presumed, to tlie great contempt of our authority, to 
march openly throiigli several of the said shires for many 
cays together, threatening the ortliodox clergy and mur- 
aering our soldiers ; and have at last, when they found 
it convenient, disappeared, being certainly and undeniably 
reset by the inhabitants of those shires, without sufficient 
diligence done by the sheiiffs and inhabitants of the said 
shires, either for dissipating them, or for discovering their 
resetters, and bringing them to justice." How fiir those 
special commissions succeeded in repressing crime may be 
judged of by the following events: — 

" lOth Nov., 1684. — The news came this morning to Edin- 
burgh that some of tlie desperate phanatiques had last night 
fallen upon two of the King's life-guards, viz., Thomas Ken- 
noway and Duncan Stewart, who were lying at the Swyn 
Abbay, beyond Blackburn in Linlithgowshire, and murdered 
them most barbarously. This was to execute what they had 
tlireatened in their declaration of war." 

" \2th Dec, 1684. — News came to the Privy Council that 
the wild phanatiques had fallen in upon one Peirson, minister 
at Carsphairn in Galloway, a great dilator of them, and 
zealous of rebuking them in his sermons, and killed him. They 
ridicul()u>ly keep mock coui'ts of justice, and cite any they 
judge their inveterate enemies to them, and read probation, 
and condemn them, and thereafter murder them." * 

Some of the murderers of Mr. Peirson were afterwards 
taken and shot. They also have been elevated to the rank 
of martyrs. The epitaph of one of them, Robert Mitchell, 
is printed among the inscriptions at the conclusion of the 
Cloud of Witnesses.. j 

On the 28th of January tliereafter, the Privy Council waf 

• FoUNTAiNHAt.L's Hi<tarictil J\''otire» 



342 APPENDIX. 

inforrncd that Captain Urquhart, and several of his men, 
bad been waylaid and murdei-ed in Wigtonshire * 

These specimens may serve to show the temper of the 
Covenanters about the close of 16S4. Next, as to the 
alleged fiery persecutions of James, " which," says Mr. Mac- 
aulay, " waxed hotter than ever from the day on which he 
became sovereign."' That day was the 6th of February, and 
on the 26 til of the same month he issued a full pardon and 
indemnity to all offenders below the rank of heritors, (with 
the exception only of those who were actually guilty (;f the 
murders of Archbishop Sharpe, Mr. Peirson, anjj two others,) 
and that clogged with no other condition than the taking of 
the oath of allegiance. The proclamation was published on 
the 2d of March, and on the ]4rth the Privy Council ordered 
all prisoners whatsoever to be set at liberty, " upon their 
abjuring the fanatical declaration of war, and likewise 
solemnly giving tlieir oaths never to rise against his Majesty 
or his authority.'" Surely never yet was persecution inaugu- 
rated by such liberal measures as these! It is right to ob- 
serve, tliat the reader will fail to discover the smallest men- 
tion of them in the pages of Mr. Macaulay. 

In less than ten days after this jail-delivery, the disturb- 
ances began anew. On the 24th of Maich, " tlie Lords of 
his Majesty's Piivy Council being certainly informed that 
a number of desperate rebels have the boldness and confi- 
dence openly to go up and down the shire of Ayr, and other 
adjacent shires and places, and to enter houses, take away 
trms and provisions at their pleasure, without any notice 
uaken of them either by the heritors or commons, to the 
great affront of Ms Ma.jesty's -iuthority," commissioned 
Colonel James Douglas to proceed to the disaffected dis- 
tricts, will) full powers to lepress the, disorders. The com- 
mission was signed on the 27th by the whole members of 
the Privy Council who were present, " except Claveriiouse" 

• Records of ths Priinj Comcil, in Gent-ral Kecoid Office, Edinburgh 



THE VISCOUNT OK DUNDEE. 343 

— a remarkable exception, specially noted, to which I shall 
presently refer. Of the same date, a letter from the Privy 
Council was forwarded to the Earl of Dumfries, sheriff of 
Ayr, requesting immediate particulars, as it appeared that 
his lordship's house had been one of those which were ran- 
sacked. 

Douglas seems to have entered into his functions with 
zeal, but not to have been altogether successful. The insur- 
rection continued to increase, and on the 21.st April, General- 
Lieutenant Druiumond, Master-General of the Ordnance, was 
appointed Commissioner and Justiciar in the southern and 
western shires, with plenary powers. The Parhament of 
Scotland did not meet until two days afterwards. • 

These insurrections had their origin in a deeper cause than 
religious dissent or local turbulence. Mr. Macaulay, who con- 
fidently says that " there was no insurrection in any part of 
our island on the 1st May, "^-probably considering the Ayr- 
shire rising as a mere sportive demonstration — has a note in 
refutation of the editor of the Oxford edition of Burnet, who 
supposes that John Brown might have been mixed up with 
the designs of Argyle. He says that Argyle was at that date 
in Holland. True; but he sailed for Scotland on the 2d, and 
the Privy Ct)uncil had been aware of his designs as early ae 
the 21st April. On that day they ordered 1200 Highlanders 
to be sent into the western shires, " upon rumors of fears of 
Argyle's landing ;" and Drummond, in his commission, was 
empowered to take those Highlanders under his command 
On the 28th, an act was fiamed for putting the whole king- 
dom in a posture of defence, expiessly on account of Argyle ; 
and on the last of that month, John Campbell of Succo was 
arrested for troasonabU; correspondence wilh tliat infatuated 
noblenuui. Nor can there lie a .-liailow of a Joiibt that the 
disturbances in the west were cormected with the meditated 
landing. 

Is, tlien, the conjecture of the editor of Burnet so exeeed- 
ing'y extravagant? I do not think so. liuw came John 



34-1 APPENDIX. 

Brown, as Wodrow says, to have been "a long time upon 
his hiding in tlie fields ? " He was free by the indemnity, 
unless, indeed, he had refused the oath of allegiance, or 
committed some subsequent act which put him beyond the 
pale of the law. In the report of a committee of the Privy- 
Council, made on the 10th of March, I find the following 
entry : — " John Brown, an old man in tlie fugitive roll, 
refuses the allegiance, and so ought not to have the benefit 
of the indemnity." If this be the same 'person with the 
carrier of Priestfield, he was at that time a prisoner, and 
therefore must either have made his escape, or, having 
taken the oath, subsequently joined the rebels : in either of 
which cases his liiding in the fields is intelligible enough, 
and so also is his summary execution when arrested. But 
in no way can it be shown that . ha suffered on account of 
his religious teiiets ; and it is very well w^orthy of obser- 
vation that the act against Conventicles, whicli has been so 
much abused, was not passed by tlie Scottish Parliament 
until several days afrer the date in question. Let the candid 
and impartial reader compare these dates, circumstances, 
and evidences with the narrative of Mr. Macaulay, and I have 
little fear of his arriving at the same conclusions with that 
eloquent historian. 

It seems to me, therefore, quite clear that John Brown 
was executed as a rebel. He may be considered a martyr 
i;i the same sense as Hackstoun of Rathillet and Robert 
Mitchell, who had imbrued their hands in the blood of the 
Primate of St. Andrews and of the minister of Carsphairn, 
or as the rebels who adhered to the atrocious Declaration 
of Sanquhar ; but I cannot see what other claim he has to 
the title. He was fugitated the year before; he had either 
refused or had forfeited the benefit of the indemnity ; he 
was trafficking with a notiorious outlaw ; and he is admitted 
to have been iu hiding within six weeks after the indem- 
u;ty was proclaimed. All this, at least, is patent and 
proven ; and it is utterly inconsistent with his innocence, 



THE VISCOUNT OF DUNDEE. H45 

even if we should stretch charity so far as to suppose tnat. 
during those six weeks, he did not join one of those armed 
bands of rebels who were then perambulating and plunder- 
ing the country. The aggravations, which constitute the 
romance of the story, have been already disposed of. Patiick 
Walker, the stauncher Cameronian of the two, gives Robert 
Wodrow the he direct. 

This note has already extended to such a length that I ain 
really unwilling to add a word more on the subject. But the 
duty which I have undertaken compels me to state my behef 
that Grahame of Claverhouse had no share whatever in re- 
pressing the disturbances previous to the landing of Argyle, 
and that he was not present at the execution of Jolm Brown. 
Tradition of course is against me, but when I find no articu- 
late voice uttered by tradition until after the expiry of thirty 
years. I am not disposed to give much weight to it as an 
accessary, far less to accept it as reasonable evidence. My 
reasons are as follows : — 

Claverhouse was superseded in his military command b} 
Colonel James Douglas, brother of Queensberry, avIio was 
then High Treasurer. The district assigned to Douglas was 
that of Ayr, the shire in whicli, John Brown resided ; and 
Claverhouse, being of equal military rank, did not serve 
under him, as is apparent from the records of the Privy 
Council, the meetings of which he attended daily xmtil tlie 
month of April. Ihese records refute many of the scan- 
dalous tales propagated by Crookshank and others, who 
depict Claverhouse as pursuing Covenanters in Nitlisdale, 
at the very moment when he was performing his duties 
as a councillor in Edinburgh. Fountainhall tells us dis- 
tinctly tliat he was superseded out of spite : he refused, m 
his character of Privy Cciuncillor, to sign the commission, 
and in April he was actually omitted from the new list of 
councillors. The following is Fountainhall's entry on that 
occasion: — "9th April, 1685. — A Privy Council is held 
where a new ommission is produced, omitting none of <ht 

lo* 



340 APPENDIX. 

former Piivy Counsellors but only Colonel Gr^hanae of Cla 
verhouse, because of the discords we hav^ formerly mark<;d 
between him and the High Treasurer and his brother. The 
pretence was, that, being married in my Lord Dundonald's 
phanatique family, it was not safe to commit the King's 
secrets to him." The spite went even further; for a few 
days afterwards an act of Council was passed, says Fountain- 
hall, " in odium of Claverhouse ;" and I cannot find, in the 
records of that year, the slightest trace of his having been 
reinstated in command. It is possible, however, that be 
might have been called out to serve under General Dium- 
niond, but not surely upon such duty as this. John Brown 
must have been a very desperate rebel indeed, if a Colonel 
of the Guards, who moreover had been a Privy Councillor, 
and tln'ee troops of horse, were dispatched specially to arrest 
him! If he Avas no rebel at all, but merely a nonconformist, 
the thing becomes absolutely incredible; for, setting aside 
the Indemnity, can any one believe that, in the face of 
Argyle's meditated landing, and in the midst of actual in- 
surrection, the troops were leisurely employed in ferreting 
out and shooting such of the peasantry as did not worship 
with the curates? But vulgiir credulity owns no limits, and 
the lapse of thirty years is sufficient to account for the cur- 
rency of the grossest fable. 

In estimating the character of the dead, some weight 
surely ought to be given to the opinions of contemporaries. 
I shall cite merely one — that of Dr. Monro, the Principal of 
the University of Edinburgh. At the inquiry instituted 
before the Visitors in 1690, it was alleged, as a special article 
of dittay against the Reverend Piincipal, that he had rejoiced 
at the victory of Lord Dundee. After calling upon his 
accuser for proofs, the Doctor thus boldly expressed him- 
self: — "The libeller does not think I rejoiced at the fall of 
ray Lord Dundee ! I assure him of the contraiy ; for no 
g;entleman, soldier, scholar, or civilized citizen, will find 
fault with me for this. 1 had an extraordinary value for 



THE VISCOUNT OF DUNDEE. 347 

him ; and such of liis enemies as retain any generoity will 
acknowledge he deserved iL" * But what generosity, or 
even what regard for truth, could be expected from creatine^ 
of the stamp of Wodiow ? 

Mr. Macaulay is peculiaily unfortunate on the subject of 
Claverhouse. I say nothing of omissions ; though I must 
take the liberty, with all deference, of remarking that it 
dees appear somewhat strange to find in a hi<t«^»ry, which 
recounts with such minute satisfaction every instance 
of desertion from the fallen side, no notice taken of 
the loyalty of those who remained steadfast to their oath 
and their allegiance. In an impartial narrative, one might 
expect to see recorded the gallant advice and cliivalrous 
offer made by Lord Dundee to his sovereign, before the 
latter quitted his dominions ; for surely devotion to a losing 
cause IS worthy of honor and respect, and should receive 
it from a generous antagonist. But historians undoubtedly 
have the privilege of omitting wliat they please, and, in this 
m?tance, it is sufficient to note that the privilege has beer 
exercised. But Mr. Macaulay has thought fit to introduce 
Claverljouse once more as an actor in an histt)ricid scene. 
upon which he has obviously bestowed much pains and 
considoration. In his account of the capture and execution 
of Aigyle, he says : — " The victorious party had not for- 
gotten that, tiiirty-five years before this time, the father of 
Argyle had been at the head of the faction which put 
Montrose to death. Before that event the houses of 
Graliam and Campbell had borne no love to each other, 
and they had ever since been at deadly feud. Care was 
taken that the prisoner should pa?s through the same 
gate, and the same streets, through which Montrose had 
been l"d to the same doom. 71ie troops tcJto attended 
the procession uere put under the command of Claverhouse, 

• Prenby riart I- quisiticm ; as it teas inteiy practised against the Pra- 
fcfsrtrs of the CoU.-ce of Edinburgh. An.', -w.d S"p: . If90. License*! 
Nov. 1-2. If«l. Lor.lon. 



348 APPENDIX. 

the Jieruet and sternest of tJie race of Graha rt." Now. al- 
though the father of Argyle had not only been the head of 
the faction wliich put Montrose to death, but had, along 
■V7ith his son, the inconceivable meanness to be present at 
and exult over the indignities offered to that illustrious 
nobleman, it is not true that any chief of the gallant house 
of Grahaine stooped to imitate such a base example. Claver- 
house was not there. The melodramatic effect of \\mi 
narrative may suffer in consequence, but at present we are 
dealing with history, not romance. The impression which 
every one must receive from the foregoing passage is, that 
Claverhouse was expressly selected for the duty, in order to 
give a passing triumph, not only to a political cause, but also 
to a family feud. Knowing well how eagerly former Cove- 
nanting writers have listened upon any pretext for casting 
a stain upon the memory of Claverhouse, it was with con- 
siderable astonishment that I found this statenient brought 
forward for the first time by Mr. Xac^.may. BQs mistake, 
in this instance, is precisely of a piece with the others. 
"Wodrow quotes, accurately enough, the substance of the 
order given for bringing Argyle into Edinburgh — an order 
which was modified in its execution. That order bears 
that he shall be "carried up the street bare-headed, with 
his hands tied behind his back, in the midst of Captaip 
Graham's guards." This is enough for Mr. Macaulay, who 
forthwith pounces upon the name, and, without stopping 
to consider who Captain Graham was, at once degrades 
Claverbo:i5(' from liis rank, and identifies him with the 
officer of the guard ! Hence the rhetorical flourish about 
the houses of Graham and Campbell The real fact is, that 
the officer in qtustion was Patrick Graham, a younger son 
of Inchbraikie, Captain of the Town-guard of Edinburgh, 
whose duty it was, irrespective of politics or family feuds, 
to be present at all public processions Avithin the boundaries 
of the city, ilia name is given at full length in the oiiginal 
order; but Mr Macaulay having previously suKtituted 



THE VISCOUNT OF OUKDEE. o49 

James for John, now substitutes Johr for Patrice, and con- 
sequently is enabled to invest the scene with an additional, 
though spurious, hue of interest. Besides this, 1 am afraid 
that Mr. Macaulaj's account of the procession must be con- 
Pidered as chiefly drawn from his own imagination. Argyle 
was by no moans exposed to the same indignities wliich had 
been heaped upon Montrose, neither was his doom the 
same. Fountainhall, in his Historical Observes, a work of 
great interest, expressly tells us, that although it was men- 
tioned that, " when the Marquis of Montrose was brought up 
prisoner from the Watergate in a cart, this Argile was feed- 
mg his eyes with the sight in the Lady Murray's balcony, in 
the Canongate, with her daughter, his lady, to whom he 
was newly married, and that he was seen smiling and 
playing with her ;" yet that, " seeing we condemn these 
rebellious tymes for their rigor, our great men (not know 
ing their owne destinies) thouglU if no Jit copy to imitate — 
80 that all that was done to him was, that he was met at 
the Watergate by Captain Graliam's company and the hang 
man, who tied his hands behind his back ; and so the hang- 
man going before him, he came up on his feet to the Castle, 
but it was casten to be so late that Jie vcas little seen!' It was 
ten oVlock at night before he arrived at the Watergate, so 
tliat any attempt at ignominious parade was avoided. 

I cannot see how the memory of Argyle can be served by 
such exaggerations. Whatever may have been his previous 
delinquencies — and they were neither few nor trivial — he 
met his fote like a brave man, nor did any action of his 
life become him so much as its close. Claverhouse, who 
would joyfully have encountered him in the field, was infin- 
itely above the littleness of triumphing over his political oj> 
ponent The debt due to the memory of the great Montrose 
was fully discharged when his loyalty received its posthumous 
tribute, and the remains of the hero were deposited by his 
assembled kindred in the tomb. It is a pity that Mr. Mac 
aulav. since he must needs take Wodrow as his authority 



350 APPENDIX. 

ha5 not adhered rloscly to his text. In matters which 
vfere evidently public, and therefore open to common con 
tradiction, Wodrow seldom ventures to wander far astray 
from the truth : it is in the alleys and by-lanes of his nar- 
rative that we detect him at his habitual sin. Mr. ilacaiilay. 
however, does not always follow Wodrow, but sometimes 
misinterprets Fountainhall. Thus in his account of the riot 
at Edinburgh on 31st January, 1686, he somewhat magnil- 
oquently tells us that " the tioops were already under arms. 
Conspicuous among them were Claverhouse's dragoons, the 
dread and abliorrence of Scotland." His sole authority for 
saying so is the entry in Fountainhall's diary, that " the 
Counsell calls in the assistance of Grame's company." ^ot 
a dragoon was there. Patrick Graham, as usual, was sum- 
moned with the Town-guard ; but that body, in the hands 
of 'Mr. Macaulay, multiphes Hke Falstaff's iamous corps in 
buckram, and is ready on the shortest notice to figure as 
horse, foot, or artillery. 

I trus^ that, in the foregoing remarks, I shall not be con- 
sidered as having transgressed the proper bounds of courtesy. 
Mr. MacAulay's reputation is deservedly so high, that every 
statement emanating from his pen is liable to the minutest 
.scrutiny ; and I will fairly confess that I wjis nut sorry to 
find the scattered charges which, from time to time, have 
been brought against Lord Dundee, concentrated in his 
volumes, since an accusation fiom so powerful a quarter 
must necessarily give some additional interest to the defence, 
however feebly executed. It is from no desire for coiitro- 
versy, far less from a wish to run counter to popular opinion, 
that I have approached this subject. I am fully aware of 
the weight of prejudice against which I have to contend ; 
but from that prejudice I appeal to the truth, as*! gather it 
from tlie records of the time. Some of my critics, for whose 
indulgence otherwise I am grateful, have been plwxsed to 
express themselves wrathfully at finding any terms of eulogy 
applied in the text towards an indivitlual in the belief of 



THE vrsCOUKT OF DUNDEE. S")l 

whose misdeeds they have been hereditarilr and tra<lition- 
allv traiiieil. If my belief upon such points were the same 
with theirs, they should have had no cause of complaint. 
It is bec.iuse 1 am convinced, after a most careful examina- 
tion of the evidence — not of historians only, but of such as 
is afiForded by the materials whicji ought to be the founda- 
tion of autlientic history — that a large portion of our national 
annals has been most unfairly perverted, and that party 
strife and polemical rancour h^ve &imbined to distort facta 
and to Waokon names for mere temporary and ephemeral 
purposes ; it is for these reasons solely that I have ventured 
to go back into the disputed battle-fields of the past I have 
taken notljing for granted, but have given an authority- for 
each i-parate allegation ; and if those authorities should 
happen to prove hostile to the preconceived impressions of 
any one, surely I am not to blame. If anvthing I have said 
can be proved to be wrong, I am willing to admit the eiTor, 
but not otherwise. Meanwhile I am not ashamed of having 
attempted to defend the memory of Lord Dundee asrainst 
unjust accusations, not j>referred during his lifetime, but 
invented at a later p :iio«l ; for I cin see no generosity, far 
less justice, in the conduci of th<"-e -xho are obstinately deaf 
to all evidence in favor of one whom they have been pre- 
viously taught to condemn, and who seem to think that the 
strefigth of theii own cause depends upon the amoimt of 
cbloquy ^^bicb they can Contrive to heap up<Mi its opponents. 



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